Quietus
by Liisa Vatanen
Summary: When Serana is gravely injured during a fight, the Dragonborn offers her something she swore she'd never take. The consequences that follow change their relationship forever. How will they cope when faced with new challenges and demons from the past? F!Dragonborn x Serana.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Elder Scrolls, or any of its characters. I'm just borrowing them for nefarious purposes.

* * *

"The amount of time you spend in these things you may as well set up home in one," Serana griped. It was the fourth ancient Nord ruin they'd explored that week and she was, quite frankly, fed up of them. They were all the same dull mossy stone, edged with cobwebs and littered with bones and archaic tomes and rotting food. She had to make a conscious effort not to breathe through her nose for fear of becoming overpowered by the awful stench. "Just because I'm a vampire doesn't mean I like _every_ cold and dark place in Skyrim, y'know."

Rella snorted in amusement, "We'll go somewhere warm and sunny next time, shall we? Perhaps to those wonderful hot springs over in Eastmarch…"

"Gods, you're funny," the vampire drawled sarcastically, but the younger Nord could hear the smile in her voice.

"At least here you can gloat about how much more beautiful you are as an undead than the draugr," Rella murmured, pulling on a hanging chain to open the iron lattice blocking their path.

Serana didn't reply, but the Dovahkiin could see her bashful smile in her periphery. If she wasn't so deathly pale, she might have been blushing, too.

They continued through the doorway and down a long, winding tunnel, hacking through a thick mesh of Frostbite webbing and slaying the rather dozy spider on the other side. Quickly passing through and travelling down a steep set of stone steps, they arrived in a small space with an obscure pressure plate in the centre, which Serana nearly triggered had it not been for Rella grasping her arm and tugging her away.

They proceeded through the next opening until Rella stopped abruptly, placing a gloved finger to her lips. She gestured to the closed cists lining the walls of the large hall they were about to enter and the vampire nodded in understanding. They started across slowly, footsteps soft and soundless.

They were halfway across the expansive room when Rella heard a loud crunch behind her and she grimaced. Serana cursed under her breath and readied her magic as the draugr-inhabited sarcophagi began to burst open, alerted to their presence. Rella drew her bow, nocking an arrow from the quiver on her back and releasing it into the chest of the first she saw emerge. Serana moved quickly, flinging spikes of ice at the two that were lumbering towards her with gnarled war axes, debilitating one and dodging the swing of the other's weapon as another of the Dragonborn's arrows found a place in its left eye.

"_FUS!" _

Rella felt a force hit her back and she stumbled, just able to resist its impetus. Her vampiric companion, on the other hand, went careering into a stack of aged earthenware and growled in frustration. The Dovahkiin spun around, retaliating against the Deathlord with her own thu'um to hinder its advance for a short time, giving her opportunity to deal with the other lesser draugr that would soon surround them. Serana, back on her feet, unsheathed her enchanted dagger and lunged at one of them, slicing its abdomen and impaling its chest with a shard of ice. She looked to Rella, who was slowly moving backwards unleashing arrows at an approaching swordsman. It managed to get into striking range, and she was forced to block its blow with the shaft of her bow before the vampire finished it from across the chamber with a spell. The recovered Deathlord shouted again, hitting Rella with the brunt of it and merely causing Serana to stagger backwards slightly. The archer hastily released three arrows at it as she lurched, but only one landed and it continued towards her unimpeded, thrusting its ebony sword at her. She managed to twist her body out of the way and struck it in the head with her fist, to little effect. It shouted again, but this time knocked the bow from her grip, and then kicked her hard in the stomach. The breath was expelled from her lungs and she was launched backwards, skidding a short distance across the dusty stone floor. She scrambled backwards, gasping for air as it raised its sword to strike her.

And then Serana was there in front of her as the Deathlord swung. Blood exploded from the undead Nord's stomach and she cried out in pain, crumpling to the ground. Rella swiftly tore the dagger from the fallen vampire's belt and shouted again to push it back, before plunging the small blade into its mottled forehead, ending it completely.

She whirled round, rushing anxiously to Serana's side. The wound was vicious and deep, stretching diagonally from the left side of her ribcage to her right hip. She was still conscious, but her face was contorted in agony. Rella hurriedly fumbled in her belt-pouch, fishing out a healing potion and ripping off the stopper. Gently lifting Serana's head into her lap, she held the rim of the bottle to her lips. "Drink this," she urged. "It will ease the pain."

The vampire opened her mouth slightly, allowing the Dragonborn to steadily pour the rosy liquid in. She groaned in disgust, coughing when the last of the vile-tasting solution slipped down her throat. "I'll be fine soon… My body just… needs to heal itself…" she grunted.

Rella unfastened the cloak from her Nightingale armour and began to fashion it into a makeshift binding around Serana's stomach, being careful not to aggravate the laceration any more than was necessary. "You've lost a lot of blood," she said quietly. She'd killed a lot of vampires on her travels; they weren't invincible.

"I'll be okay… trust me…" Serana said wearily, her breathing ragged.

Rella was silent for a few moments. When she finally spoke, her voice was steady, determined. "Feed on me."

"No." The vampire's reply was quick and equally firm, despite her fragile condition. She wouldn't drink from her. She couldn't.

"You need to, Serana. Please."

"I won't. I can't… In my state… I could kill you…" she rasped.

"I'll stop you before it gets that far."

"You won't be able to… I'm not going to take that risk."

Rella noiselessly reached for the dagger she'd used to kill the Deathlord, wiped the discoloured residue on her leg, and removed her hood. "I am," she whispered, and raised the dagger, making a shallow incision on the side of her neck.

Serana's body stiffened. "No… what are you…" she began to protest as Rella shifted and lowered her collar to the vampire's mouth, knowing she wouldn't be able to resist. "No…" she whispered, trembling. She raised her hands to the Dragonborn's upper arms to try and push her away.

But then, in a split-second, Rella was seized and slammed violently into the ground. Serana was straddling her, eyes frightening and glowing red, and sunk her fangs into the exposed skin of her neck.

And then, everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **This one's a little short so I apologise, but I felt this was a good place to pause before the next installment. Special shout-out to Kingdomalith, MightyMerlin, Chaoskadda, coldking548 and Spikesagitta for their reviews of chapter 1 (sorry I didn't respond to you guys personally), and thanks to everyone who's favourited this and/or put it on alert.

* * *

When Rella woke, she was in an unfamiliar place. Rich orange light bounced and flickered across the wooden ceiling that lay above her, accompanied by the crackling and roaring of an open fire. She smelt smoke mixed with mead and wine and roasting meat. She could hear voices, indistinct and muffled, and the gentle plucking of a lute to a tune she didn't recognise.

She was in a tavern, lying in a bed in a room she couldn't recall renting, feeling weak and bleary and unable to remember why. There was a dull ache in her neck – what felt like a combination of a bruise and a scratch – and when she moved her hand to touch it, she could barely lift her arm a few inches from the paillasse before it dropped unceremoniously back down of its own volition.

"The weakness will last hours, maybe days." She recognised the deep, throaty tone almost instantly. Isran. "I knew she couldn't be trusted."

For a brief time, Rella didn't know who he was talking about. With great effort, she managed to push herself up with her elbows, now awkwardly slumped in a half-sitting position against the cool stone wall. He was sitting in the far corner of the room, veiled by shadows where the light from the hearth couldn't reach.

"The vampire," he spat when all she did was stare blankly at him.

_Serana?_ Rella thought. _But she…_

Slowly, the memories prior to her blackout came trickling back to her. The image of Serana's gaping wound flashed in her mind, followed by those hungry, burning scarlet eyes she barely recognised. "She-"

"She betrayed you," Isran cut in. "She betrayed us all. As soon as you turn your back on her she tries to drink you dry… and after everything you did for her."

"No," Rella began hoarsely, her throat sore from disuse. "That's not…"

"It doesn't matter, anyway," he spoke over her. He could have easily drowned her out by just whispering. "She can't hide forever – especially not with three crossbow bolts in her back and half the Dawnguard out searching for her. We'll find her eventually."

Rella's heart clenched in her chest. She wanted to protest against Isran, tell him it wasn't Serana's fault, but she knew he wouldn't listen. He had already refrained from killing her once; she knew he wouldn't stay his hand a second time. "I… how did I get here?" she asked, trying to keep the panic from colouring her voice. "Where _is_ here?"

"The Bee and Barb," he replied. "She came to the fort and told me you'd been injured. When I got here I saw the bite marks and she ran. Chased her for a bit – that's when I managed to get those shots in – and then she disappeared." He grunted with laughter. "Sorine's been working on some silver bolts. It was a good opportunity to test them out. They ought to hinder her for a while."

Rella needed to find Serana before the Dawnguard did, but she was so weak – she could barely hold her own head up. "I want to be out there searching with the others," she said, her voice firm. If she acted under the guise of intending to harm Serana, then she could gain the upper hand by making sure she was one step ahead of her associates, and hopefully be the first to find her and warn her.

Isran stood from his seat, stepping into the dim light, his smile ruthless. He dipped a hand into the knapsack lying on the wooden desk underneath the window and pulled out two small green vials. He was about to toss them to her, but then remembered they'd likely end up smashed on the floor, and walked to her side. He pulled off the bungs, and in a surprisingly gentle manner given his size and carriage, tipped the tonic into her mouth. She'd grown accustomed to the bitterness of them over time, though it still didn't stop a ghost of a grimace flicker across her face.

Isran stood back, slinging the knapsack over his shoulder and moving towards the door. "Celann's waiting out here for you. When you're ready, he's your hunting partner." He yanked open the door, letting the outside activity filter into the room for a few moments, and then stepped outside, closing it behind him.

_Hunting partner_… a prospect that had once made sense to her – when she'd first joined the Dawnguard – now made her feel sick. She wouldn't hurt Serana. She couldn't. And she wouldn't let anyone else hurt her, either.

"_You will not touch her."_

Serana had said those words to her father during their final confrontation with him at Castle Volkihar, and Rella remembered feeling a warm flutter in her heart and a swell of adulation inside her belly. It was then that she'd realised how much Serana meant to her, and in turn become aware of the possibility that she may mean something more to the vampire than simply as a weapon with which to destroy her father.

Now, she would shield Serana from the Dawnguard and say those same words to every single one of them.

_They will not touch her. _


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Happy new year everyone! Sorry it's taken me a while to get another chapter up, but I'm going to aim to get the next one out much quicker. Enjoy.  
**

* * *

When Rella emerged from her room, she saw Celann sitting at one of the shadowed tables across the room. When he caught sight of her, he lifted his tankard to his mouth and swilled the remainder of his ale, slamming it back down on the table-top and standing up. He leant in close to her when she reached him, and murmured in her ear, "You might want to pull your cloak a little higher. Locals might start talking… thinking you're in leagues with the leeches if you start parading round with those bite marks on show."

"Then let them talk," she said defiantly.

Celann glared at her. "Fine," he grunted. "Let's go."

Two horses were tethered outside in Riften's stables, both chestnut mares. Celann slung a saddlebag over the taller of the two, and pulled himself up. Rella, lacking her usual energy, struggled to mount hers, but refused his aid when he held out a hand to help her up. Eventually she managed to heave herself high enough to swing a leg over and they started on their way.

On their hunt.

She wondered where Serana might be, of all the places in Skyrim. Perhaps she wasn't even in Skyrim anymore. The thought made Rella's heart squeeze in her chest. Serana was… she didn't truly know what she was to her, but she was certainly far more than a simple companion. Before meeting Serana and becoming embroiled in the fight against the Volkihar vampires – Serana's father, Harkon, in particular – she'd travelled with a few others, but none whom she'd bonded with as strongly, or whom she felt so strongly for. Lydia was a good companion – loyal, dependable – but she was travelling with her as a housecarl, with the purpose to serve and protect a Thane, not a friend. It was the same with Agris and Jordis; they could never and would never see her as anything but their charge. Her relationship with Serana was much different, and after travelling together for months as they worked to thwart Harkon's plans for his nefarious ritual, there was something unspoken between them. It was something intangible, but that both could feel as intensely as the rush of water or the raging wind amidst the storm.

"Where are we going?" she asked him, her eyes scanning their surroundings for possible creature or bandit ambushes. The wilderness could be both beautiful and dangerous, and from her experience, she found the latter to be more likely. Scars peppered her body from various run-ins with sabre cats, trolls, bears and whatever else decided she'd be easy prey. Oh how wrong they were when she would unleash her Thu'um on them and burn them alive or freeze them to death.

"There's a vampire lair northwest of Riften," Celann replied. "She was seen there not long ago."

_I doubt she'd still be there now,_ Rella thought. And if she was… well, she'd cross that bridge if it came to it. It wouldn't be difficult to slip him a sleeping draught or knock him unconscious with a rock or another hard object…

* * *

When they arrived at the cave, Celann dismounted, drew his crossbow, and charged inside without waiting for his supposed hunting partner. Rella got down from her horse as quickly as her body would allow, and drew her bow. She was thankful to whoever had collected her belongings from the Nord ruin, and to whoever had rinsed her Nightingale cloak of Serana's blood. She entered the cave, ignoring the dank, musty smell and hurriedly following the shouts and cries echoing towards her. She passed vampire corpses she could easily identify as not belonging to Serana, and the occasional ash pile that she prayed to whichever of the divines would listen, did not belong to her either. When she reached the largest chamber of the cave Celann was being swarmed by a group of five vampires, one of which was a Master by his superior attire. She quickly scanned their faces for Serana, but recognised none. She fired at those furthest away from him and those she was certain she wouldn't miss. In a matter of minutes, the lesser vampires had had their second death, and the Master Vampire, despite his fear-invoking title, cowered before Celann, whose crossbow was loaded with silver bolts and aimed at his chest.

"We're looking for someone," said Celann. "And we've heard word she's been around these parts. We simply wanted to ask you some questions about her whereabouts. This mightn't have ended so… brutally," he gestured to the numerous piles of ash and battered vampire corpses scattered throughout the area, "if your minions hadn't decided to bite first and talk later."

Rella almost laughed out loud. Celann was the one who'd provoked them, not the other way around. She felt like pointing that detail out to him, but knew it wouldn't make any difference.

"If I tell you what I know… will you spare me?" It was a bold request, and not exactly one he was in a position to ask for, but Celann nodded. Rella was both surprised and puzzled by this, but remained silent. "She came here expecting to find Alandor, our old Master, but he hasn't been here for centuries. We could smell the silver-burning flesh on her so we turned her away. I don't know where she went afterwards. West, perhaps. Towards Ivarstead. She'd need to feed, in her state."

"Why didn't you help her?" asked Rella, trying to keep the anger from colouring her voice. How could they see one of their own, regardless of origin, injured and in pain and not offer to help?

"It didn't take a genius to know she'd been attacked by hunters," he said condescendingly, serving to infuriate Rella even more. "We thought she might have been followed by hunters," he spat, looking between them scornfully. "And we were right."

"How long ago was she here?" asked Celann, adjusting the crossbow to remind him not to speak out of turn to them.

"Not long. Three hours, at the most."

Celann glanced over at Rella. "She won't be too far ahead," he said. "An hour, given her condition, I'd say."

The Master Vampire looked hopefully up at Celann, "I told you everything you wanted to know. Does that mean I'm free to go?"

Celann lowered his crossbow. The Master Vampire smiled, rising slowly from the ground, taking care to brush away the dirt from the bottom of his robes. When he lifted his eyes again, a silver bolt embedded itself in his chest. "We… had an agreement!" he rasped, before crumbling to the ground in a pile of off-white ashes.

"What did you do that for?" Rella asked. She'd joined the Dawnguard for the purpose of hunting vampires; knew she shouldn't have cared about his death, but she also knew the value of honesty and integrity. A deal was a deal and honouring it was the right thing to do, regardless of race or species. It wasn't long ago that she abhorred vampires and everything about them, but Serana had shown her that they weren't all monsters. She had shown her that some were capable of kindness, of humanity. "He co-operated with us."

"I don't bargain with vampires," he said plainly, sheathing the weapon on his back. "And neither should you. We're the Dawnguard, in case you forgot."

"Vampire or not, it was the noble thing to do," she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Well it's a good job I'm not a Jarl, then, isn't it?" he shot back, glaring at her as he started past her and back out of the cave. "We need to get moving," he called behind him. "The sooner we kill her, the sooner I can have some ale."

"Where are we going next?" asked Rella as they mounted their horses outside the cave entrance. "She could have gone anywhere. 'West' is a very general directional term."

He rummaged in his saddlebag, pulling out a parchment with a map of the hold with all its important landmarks marked on it. "She won't risk going to the town to feed, so that rules out Ivarstead. I doubt she'd even risk going to one of the smaller settlements with her injuries. She'd be noticed too easily."

While Celann continued his musings aloud, Rella was deliberating inside her own mind about Serana's whereabouts. She agreed that the Nord vampire wouldn't go to a populate town or city, but short of taking over a cave or ruin, there wasn't anywhere else for her to go, especially not during the day when the sunlight would weaken her even more than she already was.

And then she thought of something.

There was a hut. Abandoned, previously inhabited by an alchemist, just a little bit southwest of Ivarstead. They'd happened upon it a few months ago, after the troubles with Lord Harkon had been resolved, and Serana had said how charming it was, sitting alone in the middle of nowhere, shaded by the cliff and surrounded by trees. There was a vast array of alchemy ingredients there that Serana could use to brew something to ease her pain, or heal herself completely. It was worth a try, at least.

They decided – or rather, Celann decided – to travel to Ivarstead and ask the townspeople there about Serana. It was unlikely that she'd go there to feed, but not impossible.

* * *

By the time they arrived it was late at night and the only people around were a handful of Rift guards carrying torches and making sure everything was in order. The chilling roar of a dragon sounded in the distance, and Rella's hand rested on her bow in case it decided to swoop down and attack. It roared a second time, but this time quieter, and she relaxed. They secured their horses behind the Vilemyr Inn before going inside to rest for the night.

Celann purchased two rooms, mumbled a quick 'goodnight' to Rella and disappeared inside one of them, leaving the other to her.

But she didn't go into her room, and instead returned to their horses outside. She hastily untied her horse, shushing it when it started to bray and huff, and set off southward towards the alchemist's hut, consulting her map to remind herself of the way.

It was still dark when she arrived, but it must have been approaching dawn. She dismounted quietly, but still certain that if Serana were awake, she'd hear her arrival. She pulled down the hood of her cloak and pushed open the door, bracing herself for spells that might be flung her way if she caught the vampire unawares.

When she entered, Serana's magic was already flaring in her hands, casting a blue and red glow across each side of the dim room. The only other light came from a handful of candles on top of the alchemy lab. The readied spells extinguished when she saw the Dragonborn standing in front of her with a soft expression on her face.

"Rella…" she breathed, sounding relieved. Then, her voice hardened and her eyes flared like fire, "Why are you here?"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Once again, a huge thank you to everyone who's reviewed, favourited and followed this story. I hope I don't disappoint.  
**

* * *

The breath caught in Rella's throat when she took in Serana's appearance. Her skin was ashen, glistening with moisture; the larger, visible veins that lay beneath were a dark grey. "Gods…" she uttered. "I… came to help," she said, stepping further into the room. She noticed the vampire tense, her upper lip twitching, as though expecting an attack, and couldn't help but feel slightly taken aback. She thought it obvious she'd never do anything to hurt her. Not after everything they'd been through together. "I know the Dawnguard are hunting you."

"So is that why you're here? To turn me in? To kill me?" The magic flared again, blinding Rella momentarily after her eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness of the hut.

Rella's stomach churned at the thought, and she grimaced. "No," she said, shaking her head. "No. Isran told me what he'd done. I… I needed to get to you before they did. I needed to know you were safe."

"Well here I am," Serana spat, "safe and sound. Now you can go."

"Serana…" Rella went to take a step forwards, but the vampire snarled at her, guttural and growling like a feral animal.

"Don't come any closer."

Although slightly unnerved by her companion's behaviour, Rella guessed it was a result of her pain. She wasn't entirely sure what effect silver had on vampires, but she knew it wasn't a good one. "I'm not here to hurt you, Serana," she said steadily. "I came to help."

"You can help me by staying away."

Rella ignored the faint pang in her heart at those words. "I won't do that."

"It's too dangerous for you to be here," Serana breathed, moving back and increasing the gap between them. "Not when I'm like this…"

"If the Dawnguard find you here they won't hesitate to kill you. If I'm here, I can protect you!"

"I'm not the one here that needs protecting… Rella, please, you need to leave. _Now_!" Serana's eyes had taken on that threatening edge; the one she saw in the Nord ruin. The one before…

"I'm not afraid of you," she declared firmly, but couldn't stop the tiniest tremble from colouring her voice. Still, she didn't move, steeling herself for what may come next. Her hand grazed the handle of the dagger hanging at her waist, hoping she wouldn't have to use it. _No,_ she thought, snatching her hand away, _I won't hurt her. Not even in self-defence._ She let it drop to her side.

Serana's breaths were heavy and laboured, causing her shoulders to rise and fall in exaggerated movements. She was gripping the bookshelf next to her so fiercely that the wood was beginning to splinter beneath her fingers. "I don't… I don't want to hurt you again."

"And you won't," Rella said, taking a cautious step towards her. She was playing with fire, perilously close to getting burnt. "I know you won't."

Serana retreated backwards slightly, restoring the gap between them. "You don't… You don't know what I'm capable of… I nearly killed you!"

"But you didn't." She took another careful step closer. "What stopped you?"

Serana frowned, suddenly thrown off balance by the question. "I… don't know."

"Yes. You do." Rella was closer to her, now; much closer than before, and dangerously so. The flames were licking at her skin, but instead of scorching, they left a trail of warmth that spread across her entire body.

"What does it matter, anyway? It doesn't change what happened, I…" Serana didn't know when the Dragonborn's hands had reached out to cup her face, but she knew she didn't want them to let go. "Rella…"

"I'm not leaving you," the Nord whispered. "I want to help you. Please. Let me."

Eventually Serana nodded, defeated, but thankful she hadn't completely lost control. Her fight with herself wasn't over, but for the moment, she had the advantage. She turned her body around, showing the young Nord the extent of her injuries, courtesy of Isran. "It… looks worse than it is."

"Somehow, I don't believe you," Rella muttered as she examined the silver barbs protruding from Serana's back. Her skin had burnt viciously around the entries, mottled and charred. Rella swore she could see faint wisps of white smoke rising from the wounds, and couldn't imagine what kind of pain the vampire must have been in. "Why didn't you see someone about these sooner?" She asked.

"Oh yeah? Like who?" Serana replied disdainfully. "My supposed family at Castle Volkihar is dead, my mother's still stuck in the Soul Cairn and since I was entombed in that ruin for the Gods know how many years, I think it's safe to say I haven't had much time to make vampire-tolerant friends." Her shoulders slumped after a few moments, realising Rella hadn't meant to upset her. "Sorry," her voice softened slightly. "I just… Sorry."

"It was a stupid question," said Rella gently, touching the crook of Serana's arm to reassure her she hadn't caused any offence.

The vampire looked up at her, giving her a small, helpless smile. "I did try and get help from a group of vampires near Riften," she explained. "A very, very, very old acquaintance of mine used to inhabit one of the lairs, and I thought there might be a slight chance he'd still be there. He wasn't – some other master had taken over – and the rest of them wouldn't help me, either." She let out a single, dry laugh. "It's funny; you'd expect some sort of solidarity between us, but no. I don't suppose I can blame them for not wanting to risk an attack by hunters."

"I suppose not," Rella agreed, refraining from mentioning that she and Celann – mainly Celann – had killed every single vampire in that very lair. "There's conflict in every realm, among every species. I don't think there's any way to escape it. Someone, somewhere, is always going to want to wage war on someone else, be it their own race, or another."

The dark-haired Nord nodded, and then promptly winced in pain. "Gods, I don't know how I've put up with this for so long," she grunted. "It even hurts to breathe."

"I've had to extract an arrow or two in my time," Rella said, "I don't think these will be too different. The only problem is you'll probably need…"

"Blood," Serana finished uneasily.

"I can't…"

"No," Serana said quickly, averting her gaze. She looked almost ashamed, and the Dragonborn didn't dare question her.

"It's going to hurt when I take them out."

"I know, but it can't be any worse than when they went in," said Serana.

It took at least an hour for Rella to remove all the silver bolts from Serana's back. Each one she pulled out was accompanied by a cry of pain from the vampire that almost broke her heart. She cursed Isran for hurting her this way, but couldn't help feeling somewhat responsible herself. Perhaps if she'd been stronger, more able to withstand the vampire drinking from her, none of this would have happened. If she hadn't offered herself – no, forced herself – upon Serana, then they wouldn't be in this situation at all. She wouldn't be on the brink of losing her forever. "All done," she said, casting the last one onto the table and swilling her hands in a bowl of clean water. "Now..."

"I'll go out and hunt a deer or something." Serana cut in, and started to stand, but didn't appear too sure on her feet. She started to wobble, and Rella quickly slid an arm around her waist to steady her.

"I'll go," she said, lowering her gently back down onto the makeshift bedding. "You shouldn't be outside in your condition. Just don't grumble if it isn't as… fresh, as you'd like."

Serana nodded, mumbling something that sounded reminiscent of 'thank you' as the Dragonborn took up her bow and quiver of arrows and ventured out into the woods to hunt.

It didn't take her long to find a suitable candidate. The woods were teeming with deer and foxes and wolves, and within ten minutes of careful and quiet walking, she saw a group of deer grazing on the leaves of a bush in a small clearing. Her arrow lanced the largest deer through its neck, and the noise caused the other two to scarper in terror, their rounded bodies darting nimbly through the trees. The beast let out a strangled scream in agony, its body writhing on the floor, helpless. She hated the sound; hated inflicting pain on such a beautiful and majestic creature and witnessing its suffering, but knew it couldn't be helped. With one swift blow to its head with a large stone, she put it out of its misery, murmuring a fruitless apology. Taking hold of its front legs, she began to drag the corpse back to the hut.

She shoved it across the floor towards Serana, whose eyes lit up slightly at the sight and smell of the blood, albeit an animal's. "Don't make me do that again," said Rella. "I may eat meat at taverns but at least I don't have to watch it die beforehand."

"I won't." The vampire's eyes were fixated on the weeping puncture wound made by the arrow. "Would you… go outside?" she questioned quietly. "I don't want you to see this. It isn't… pleasant."

Rella half wanted to protest, to insist that she didn't care, that nothing the vampire could do would make her feel uncomfortable, but she realised it was the other way around. Serana didn't want her to watch her feed. Quite why, she didn't know, but she'd respect her wishes. "I won't go far. Let me know if you need anything."

* * *

Rella sat on a cluster of boulders outside the alchemist's hut, staring up at the cloudless sky. The sun was warm, and she felt a thin layer of sweat start to form between her skin and her armour. Stripping down to her underclothes – a pair of slim chaps and a tunic – she longed for a cool stream or lake to dip her sore feet into. To amuse herself, she began carving the symbols she'd seen inside certain Nord ruins that imbued her with the knowledge of the Thu'um.

_Diin… Fus… Yol… Krah…_

They were strange things, word walls. So simple, and yet possessing knowledge that few could unlock. She'd always wondered if there were other Dragonborn out there, unaware of their power as she had been for so long. It would be nice to meet another, she'd often thought. She'd feel less alone, that way. Under less pressure to stop Alduin if she wasn't doing it by herself. She was just thankful that dragons could be killed by any mortal, and not just by a Dragonborn. She thought fondly of those people who'd asked her to kill bears and wolves for them, and yet when faced with a dragon circling over their city or village, would rise to the challenge, no matter how futile, and try to bring it down. The courage of the coward is greater than all others, it would seem.

As she was etching the symbol for _Zul_, she remembered the particularly difficult encounter with the Dragon Priest Krosis, atop the dragon lair at Shearpoint where she'd acquired that very dragon shout. She'd already been weakened by the battle with the dragon there, and hadn't expected a second fight as she approached the word wall to take in its knowledge. She hadn't even noticed the sealed sarcophagus until it was too late and its lid burst open, unleashing the fearsome being trapped within. Her hand absently grazed the spot on her shoulder where one of his projectile shards of ice had struck her, freezing her from both the inside and out. Serana had been there, too, flinging spells at it and lunging for it with her dagger every so often when the Dragonborn staggered it with an arrow from cover. It had conjured a frost atronach that stomped towards the vampire and started to engage her as she leapt deftly out of its swipes and smashes. Rella had charged towards it, leaping onto its back and causing it to stumble around as it attempted to shake her off. She wasn't an accomplished mage, but she possessed lesser magic, and so cast a stream of fire from the palms of her hands onto its icy body. When she felt her power begin to wane, she sprang away, and unleashed her Thu'um onto it, shouting a breath of fire in its direction, and melting it entirely. Her vampiric companion had reanimated the skeletons of perished explorers lying next to the coffin, and threw spikes of ice at its master with renewed vigour. After ten long minutes, the Priest was defeated by the only ebony arrow in Rella's quiver of steels, which had landed straight in its chest. As it fell, its mask detached itself from its decayed and dappled face, rolled across the snow and landed at her feet. She bent to pick it up, marring the white of the snow with the scarlet of her blood, dripping from her wounded shoulder. Serana had approached her, but stopped abruptly no more than two metres away, a frightened expression flickering across her face. She'd realised then the potential danger of having a vampire as a companion. She'd considered letting her go, after that; knowing how little blood it would take to for her to be tempted, but she couldn't. She didn't want to.

She was torn from her reverie when a hooded Serana emerged, hulking the now drained deer's body out of the hut. The visible skin where the bolts had torn through her robe was immaculate, as though they'd never been there at all; had never boiled and melted her skin like candlewax. Rella rose from her seat, "Do you need any help?"

"No," Serana replied curtly, disposing of it a short distance away. No doubt a fox or wolf or stray dog would happen upon it and make a meal out of it.

"Are you feeling better?" She asked, trying a different tack.

"Yes." Serana was walking towards the hut but refused to make eye contact.

Rella frowned, running a hand through her loose chestnut hair. "Is there something wrong? Do you need more blood? I can-"

"Nothing's wrong," she responded coolly, resting a pale hand on the door's latch. She paused for a few moments as the Dovahkiin watched her silently. Finally, she spoke, "You've helped me, as you said you would, so now I think you should leave."

The Dragonborn felt as though she'd been punched in the stomach by an Orc chieftain. Before she could say anything in response, Serana continued, her tone dispassionate, "You have my thanks, but I'll be fine on my own. I don't need you to protect me. Not anymore."

Rella couldn't understand where this sudden change had come from, but it hit her like an ancient dragon's tail. A hand reached up to cover her heart, for the emotional pain she was feeling seemed to manifest there. "Serana-"

"It's for the best," the vampire interjected.

"For you, or for me?" she asked, "Because I can't see anything good coming out of this for me."

"For both of us."

"I don't believe that," Rella said, her voice tinged with anger.

"You don't need me tagging along with you anymore. You'll be fine on your own."

"Don't tell me what I do or don't need," Rella bit back. "If you hadn't been with me in that Nord ruin, I'd be dead. You saved my life, Serana."

"And then I nearly killed you myself!" The vampire cried, turning to the Dragonborn and meeting her fiery gaze. Her own iridescent ochre eyes were filled with tears that would never fall.

"And I let you. That wasn't your fault, it was mine. I pushed you, and I shouldn't have."

Serana shook her head. "You don't understand, Rella…"

"So make me understand!" the young Nord exclaimed. "Whatever it is, we can get through it. Together."

Serana closed her eyes, letting her head fall back in despair. "It's not that simple…"

"I never… I never said it needed to be…" Rella murmured, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by both tiredness and dizziness. She threw a hand out to steady herself on a tree, leaning the majority of her weight on it as she tried to collect herself. Her vision started to blur in and out of focus, tilting in different directions and warping the world around her.

"Are you…" Serana began to ask.

"I'm fine, just… tired," Rella replied. They both knew why, but neither dared say it out loud. "I think… I think I need to sit down."

She started to walk towards the hut and lurched forwards, feeling her feet slip from underneath her. And then Serana was there holding her upright, a hand on her waist and another on her shoulder. She looked into the vampire's smouldering eyes, "Thanks," she murmured, letting Serana lead her back to the rocks. The undead Nord disappeared into the hut for a few moments, returning with a tarnished goblet of water. Rella took it and hurriedly gulped it down.

"You should rest."

The Dovahkiin wiped her moist brow with the back of her hand, "So you can take off whilst I'm asleep? I don't think so."

"If I ran away now I doubt you'd be able to stop or catch up to me," the vampire stated calmly.

The Dragonborn's head snapped up, sparkling emeralds glaring at her furiously. She braced her arms on the edge of the rock to keep her body from veering around of its own accord. "What… why are you…" she blinked, seeing darkness even despite the sun beating down upon her. "Don't…" She was toppling forwards, the ground rushing up to meet her, when she realised Serana must have put something into her water. "No…" she murmured, desperately clinging to consciousness and rapidly failing. "Why…"

"I'm sorry, Rella," Serana whispered, her cool fingertips brushing her cheek. "But it's for the best."

And for the second time, everything went black.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'm really sorry for the length of time it's taken me to upload this. My computer died on me, and being the silly that I am, I hadn't backed anything up, so I basically had to write this again from scratch, and with university dropping a ton of assignments on me, I wasn't able to spend as much time on this as I'd have liked. So, I apologise if this isn't up to the standard of previous chapters.**

* * *

Rella woke slowly, suddenly becoming aware of the absolute silence that encircled her. For a brief moment, she wondered if she was dead. She felt… nothing. But when she opened her eyes, she could see the sun, high in a cloudless, rich blue sky, and yet she felt no warmth from it. The grass she was lying on didn't tickle her skin, nor did the flowers surrounding her give off an aroma. The air was still and quiet; peculiarly so. Though the atmosphere appeared calm, she couldn't help but feel unsettled.

"You're awake." It was Serana's voice, and she recognised it instantly. She would explain what was going on, why they were there. She could rely on her.

The Dragonborn sat up, rubbing her temples. The undead Nord was sitting a short distance from her, legs tucked underneath her. She was twirling a pale blue flower in her fingers, stroking the petals with her forefinger and then tearing them off. She found the juxtaposition of her actions strange, yet entrancing.

"Serana…" she said, her eyes still fixed on the near petal-less flower. She felt almost sorry for it. "Where are we?"

"Somewhere safe, somewhere no one can hurt us," the vampire replied, leaning across and brushing a loose strand of hair from Rella's face. Her fingertips grazed the skin on her cheek, light and airy, and cold, but the trail they left was hot, almost to the point of burning.

"I don't understand," said Rella. "Why are we here? I don't remember this place."

"That's because you've never been here before, silly," Serana explained, smiling slightly. "You don't need to understand. Just relax… bathe in the tranquillity."

Rella blinked, trying to fathom what was going on. She frowned, searching Serana's face, as if for something she'd lost. Her eyes flickered to the sky for a moment, and then returned to the beautiful undead woman sitting across from her. "You aren't wearing your hood. The sun-"

Serana placed a single, slender finger on her lips. "Hush," she whispered. "You don't need to worry. We're safe here."

She kept saying it – that they were safe – but somehow Rella didn't quite believe it. There was something strange about that place, something disconcerting lurking beneath the supposedly peaceful surface. "I don't like it here."

The vampire frowned at her, and Rella swore her eyes flashed red for a split-second. If she'd blinked, she might have missed it. If it had even been there at all, she thought. "Why?"

"I don't know," the younger Nord replied. "It's too… calm."

"Of course the Dragonborn would feel uneasy in a place of peace," Serana said, laughing slightly. "You aren't used to it, that's all."

"No." Rella shook her head, sweeping the grass with her hands, letting the wisps slide numbly through her fingers. "It doesn't feel real. The sun… it's not warm."

"Do you trust me?" Serana questioned, reaching over to take her hand.

Rella glanced down to the pale fingers intertwined with her own slightly tanned ones. The contact felt odd, though not unpleasant. She hadn't expected it. Serana was always cautious about touching her, never doing so unnecessarily. Rella often thought she wanted to; noticed the way she would begin to reach towards her, and then quickly snatch her hand away. "I don't know," she replied, moving her gaze from Serana's to survey their surroundings. It was beautiful and serene, vibrant, but still she found herself unable to shake the feeling of unease that was slowly creeping over her. "I don't feel right," she admitted. "This place… doesn't feel right."

When she turned back, the vampire's face was mere inches away from her own. Shining ochre orbs penetrated her like the sharpest blade.

"Does this feel right?" Serana asked throatily, and closed the gap between them to capture her lips in a kiss.

It was something she'd wanted for a long time, but never thought she could have. And yet, it felt wrong; hollow, void of any feeling, any emotion. "No…" Rella murmured, pulling away. "This… it's all wrong." She stood, turning away from the vampire to study their surroundings. She couldn't see anything on the horizon. No mountains, no trees. Nothing. "Where in the name of Talos are we?" She asked. When Serana didn't reply, she turned around.

The vampire's eyes were glowing red, now, and her face was contorted into a snarl, fangs glinting menacingly in the light. One of Rella's hands flew to her back, grasping at the thin air where her bow usually hung, and the other to her thigh, where she often strapped a small blade, but felt nothing there. Serana was advancing on her now, slowly, as a wolf might hunt its prey. She had nowhere to run, and she had nowhere to hide.

"Serana," she said, unable to hide the fearful quiver in her voice. She took steps backwards to increase the gap between them, but the vampire closed it again almost straight away. "This isn't you. You don't- you don't have to do this."

Serana swiped at her, catching the side of her face with claw-like nails, growling ferociously. Suddenly, the vampire became enveloped by a dark crimson mist. Her body began to writhe and crumple as her skin darkened to a blue-grey hue, and thin, mangled wings erupted from her shoulder blades. Rella, clutching her bloody cheek, could only watch in horror as the mist dissipated, and Serana hovered above her, a Vampire Lord. Red eyes fixed on her, and before she could react, the elongated talons that were once petite, pale hands, had impaled her through her stomach.

She couldn't even scream.

* * *

Rella sat up, gasping for air, beads of sweat peppering her skin. Her head felt heavy, as though she'd had one too many ales at the tavern and was paying the price for it. She was in complete darkness, and it frightened her almost as much as her nightmare. With what little magic she possessed she cast a candlelight spell, illuminating her immediate surroundings. It took her a few moments, but her memories slowly began to trickle back to her; how she'd broken away from Celann to seek out Serana herself; how she'd found her and treated her wounds; how Serana had tricked her, and left her alone…

She took up the goblet that lay on the floor next to her –a reminder of her stupidity; how easily she'd fallen for such cheap trickery – and growled in frustration, flinging it at the wall.

It lay in shattered pieces thereafter, just like her heart.

She couldn't go back to the Dawnguard. She didn't want to. She wanted to return to her home in Markarth, to drink away her sorrows with Agris by the fire, to share tales and yarns that would help her forget, if just for a moment, that she'd been tricked and forsaken by the person she trusted and cared for the most.

It took her longer than usual to put her armour on. Her hands kept shaking; the straps didn't want to fit through the buckles. She blamed it on the after-effects of the sedative she'd been given.

Her horse greeted her with a nuzzle in the crook of her neck when she returned to him, as if he knew how she was feeling. She put a foot in the stirrup and swung her leg over his back, promising to buy him some good feed when they reached the next town.

Her journey over the next few days remained relatively uneventful. There were times when she would hear the distant roar of a dragon, or the growls of a pack of wolves, or the angry cries of attacking bandits, but never once did she actually have to face them. For that, she was thankful. She was distracted, and wouldn't have been at her best in combat. She didn't want to add any more injuries to the list of things that were wrong with her.

* * *

It was on the fifth day of travelling that she finally reached Markarth. She left the horse with the stable master, paying twice the fee with the instruction that he be treated like a king, and entered the stone bastion. She climbed the steps to Vlindrel Hall and was welcomed by the warmth and comforting aroma of beef stew. Argis sat at the dining table, wiping the blade of his dagger with a cloth.

"You look rough," he remarked, and as an afterthought, added, "My Thane."

Rella waved her hand, dropping into one of the chairs next to the fire, "You don't need to call me that."

"As you wish, my Thane."

She could hear the amusement in his voice, and found herself smiling slightly, despite everything. "I feel rough," she admitted. "Give me two Ancient dragons over what I've been through recently."

Argis twirled the dagger in his hand, its newly untarnished surface glinting in the firelight. "You've saved Skyrim from Gods know how many catastrophes – you're the Dragonborn. Things were never meant to be easy for you."

"I know," she replied sadly. "Unfortunately, most of what has occurred lately has been of my own doing."

"I won't pry," Argis said, for which she was grateful. "But I _will_ get you some rum and a bowl of stew."

"I can't think of anything better, right now," Rella sighed.

She spent most of the following day with her head in a bucket. One dash of rum had turned into another, and another, and another, until she was so intoxicated she couldn't stand up properly. Argis delighted in teasing her about her weak stomach for a while, but looked after her well thereafter; preparing her food when the nausea finally wore off and trying to lighten the mood by telling her about the time he found an elk stuck in a tree after it had eaten some fermented fruit. By evening, her head was no longer throbbing, and she sat next to the hearth reading _Yellow Book of Riddles_. She tried to concentrate on it, but the text on the pages in front of her just blurred and twisted before her eyes, meaningless.

She tossed it aside, deciding to pull herself together. She needed to focus. There was still much to do across Skyrim, and she wasn't going to be of much use to anyone if she was lamenting about losing someone close to her. There were children without parents, parents without their children, husbands without wives, wives without husbands, and many more all over the land who had lost a loved one, still carrying on even despite the pain. She wasn't an exception.

A knock at the door brought her from her thoughts, and just as she was about to leave the comfort of the chair, Argis strolled through the living area. "You stay there. I'll go."

Rella nodded silently, letting her eyes wander to the fire, again. Truth be told, she wasn't in the mood for any visitors, and hoped it was just some trader looking for a sale. When she heard a shout and a thud, and saw Argis's limp body slide across the stone floor, she knew it wasn't a trader. She was about to dart towards her bedchamber and retrieve her sword, when the intruder spoke, staying her.

"Where are you, Dragonborn?" Isran stormed into the room, stepped over Argis and then noticed her standing dumbly by the hearth.

"Isran…" Rella couldn't hide the surprise that flashed across her face and touched her voice. "How…"

"How did I find you?" he interjected sternly.

"I…"

"Do you take me for a fool?" he questioned angrily, rounding on her. She took a step backwards, but was confined by the chair and table at her back. "I was tracking you. I followed your every move, right to the last. I know you found her, and I know you let her go."

Rella's heart constricted painfully in her chest. She should've known; she shouldn't have been so thoughtless. In her haste to find Serana herself, she'd lead the Dawnguard straight to her. "What have you done with her?" she demanded.

Barely registering him drawing his crossbow, a silver bolt embedded itself in her upper arm. She stumbled backwards from the force of it, crying out in pain. "Isran! What-"

"No smoke," he remarked calmly. "You aren't one of them. _Yet_." He returned the crossbow to its sheathe on his back as if nothing untoward had just occurred. "I'm sure you'll appreciate I had to make sure. I'll wager you've suffered worse."

"That's no excuse," she bit out. She grasped hold of the bolt, and gritting her teeth in anticipation of the approaching discomfort, pulled it out. She glared at the leader of a faction she now wished she'd never allied herself with, and asked again. "Where is she?"

When he didn't answer, she repeated the question, her Thu'um tinging her words with more force, more strength.

Isran advanced on her, then. She wasn't quick enough, nor anywhere near any weapons with which to defend herself, and felt the full force of his fist impact her jaw. He snatched the front of her tunic, slamming her against the wall. His forearm pinned her there, rammed against her collarbone. "You might be the Dragonborn, but I do not answer to you. You are but a child; a girl, playing hero. Just because you were born with some special power does not mean you are capable of moving mountains. It does not mean you can run blindly into battle thinking you're invincible. You need to earn your title."

"I don't want to hurt you," she growled, matching his irate stare with one of her own. "But you're making my temper very difficult to contain."

Isran scoffed, pressing harder at the base of her throat. "I wouldn't exactly say the odds were in your favour, Dovahkiin."

"If you came here to kill me, get it over and done with," she snarled. "If not, tell me where Serana is."

"She's here." His silver blade was already in his hand, and just as the Dragonborn saw the distortion in the air, he'd driven it behind him.

Serana's cloak dissipated, and she fell to her knees. Rella screamed, lunging for Isran, unleashing her Thu'um on him, turning him to ice. It wouldn't kill him. _She_ wouldn't kill him. She was better than that, and hoped he might remember it if they ever crossed paths again someday. When he toppled to the ground, frozen, she rushed to Serana's side. The hilt of the silver blade was protruding from her chest, skin charring and bubbling before her eyes.

"What do I do?" she asked fearfully. To pull it out might be to make it worse, and to leave it in would allow the silver to further enter the vampire's bloodstream.

Serana looked up at her slowly, her eyes were dim, but the light hadn't been extinguished completely. He hadn't struck her anywhere near her heart – anywhere fatal – but it still served to cause her great distress. "Pull it out… Quickly…"

Rella grasped hold of the handle, and with her other hand, took hold of Serana's. In one clean, swift motion, she yanked the dagger free and cast it aside. When she returned her gaze to Serana's, the vampire looked on the verge of tears. "Serana…"

"Get away from me," Serana said. "Now, Rella."

Rella glanced at the puncture wound in her shoulder, the blood seeping steadily down her arm. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. "Take it."

"No!" Serana was almost convulsing now, fighting against the hunger that was exacerbated by her injury and the proximity of the Dragonborn's blood. "I won't. I can't. Not… not again."

"Control the hunger."

"It's not that simple!" The undead Nord was crouched now, hands gripping her knees tightly. So tight, in fact – and Rella hadn't thought it possible – that her knuckles were even paler.

The Dragonborn took a hesitant step towards her. "I know you can." And another.

"I can't!" Serana cried.

And then she lunged.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I was really humbled and inspired by all your lovely reviews, so I got to work on this next chapter pretty quickly. You're all wonderful. I can't thank you enough. I apologise if you feel this chapter is a little crazy/far-fetched in relation to the Skyrim universe (some of you might, some of you might not. I just don't know). The Argis I've written here is almost entirely OOC to his in-game counterpart, but all the housecarls tend to say the same thing anyway so I've given him a bit of a personality. Anyway, just a warning. Let me know what you guys think; constructive criticism is always welcome. If you don't like something, tell me why, and if you do, well, that's fantastic! Enjoy!**

* * *

Rella had seen it coming, and had already braced herself for when Serana's fangs embedded themselves in her skin, the vampire's mouth covering the wound on her shoulder. It was a strange sensation – to feel her blood being drawn from her in such a way – but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. In fact, it was vaguely pleasant; odd as that seemed. She supposed that was what made it more appealing for the humans being fed on… or perhaps it was simply the effect Serana had on her. She didn't want to think about that. Not now, at least.

After a few moments, she realised she wasn't unconscious. It occurred to her that when Serana had seized her inside the Nord ruin, she must have knocked her head against the stone floor. She vaguely recalled it feeling sore when she awoke in the tavern, but hadn't thought too much of it; especially not when she'd had bigger things to worry about with the Dawnguard's crusade against her vampiric companion.

When she started to feel faintly tired, the Dragonborn made to stop Serana from drinking anymore of her blood. "Serana… stop." Rella started to push her away gently, but the vampire wasn't going to comply. "Stop." She pushed harder, but it seemed the more she resisted, the more determined Serana was to stay attached to her shoulder.

"_FUS!"_

Rella controlled the strength of her Thu'um to throw Serana backwards a short distance, rather than catapult her across the room. It worked, and the alarming red glow was gone from her eyes, replaced by the familiar golden hue that the Dovahkiin found so wonderful and entrancing.

Serana wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, shaking her head as she observed the newly flawless skin at her side. She heeded the Dragonborn despairingly, "For Talos's sake…"

Before Serana could berate her for what she'd done, the Dragonborn cut in with a question, "Why did you come back, Serana?"

"I…" forgetting her first anguish and letting a second take its place, Serana let her gaze fall to the floor.

"Guilt?" Rella pressed. "For dosing me and running away?"

"It was wrong of me to do that," she said softly. And then, in a harsher tone, "But I'm not the one that got us into this mess. I did what was necessary."

Rella stared at the vampire incredulously. She knew she was partly responsible for what had happened, but it had all escalated into something far bigger and far worse than she could have possibly imagined. When she let Serana drink her blood in that Nord ruin, she'd done it because she wanted to help, not hinder her. "You're blaming me for all of this?"

"If you hadn't taken us into that damned ruin…" Serana seethed. Closing her eyes briefly, calming herself, she continued steadily, "I made an oath to myself that I would never feed from you; that I'd never take that which is yours." She raked a slender hand through her ebony locks. "Now, I've broken that oath, and I can never forgive myself for it."

Rella blinked slowly, letting out a slow, weary breath. In that moment, she felt her anger drain away. Serana was right; she was to blame. "Serana, you didn't take anything from me that I wouldn't have already willingly given to you. You fed from me because _I_ didn't give you any other choice." She paused, allowing her words to sink in. "And I'd do it all over again if it meant easing your pain."

Serana exhaled slowly, miserably. "Your blood is strong," she let out a short, dry laugh, "you're the Dragonborn, of course it is… As vampires we're drawn to rich blood, and now that I've fed from you, the hunger… the yearning… it's even worse. I can't control myself around you. Not anymore."

Serana closed her eyes, shaking her head. "I'm in more pain now, than ever. You don't know how difficult it is for me to keep control, how strongly I… desire you- your blood. That's why I left, why we can't see each other anymore. It's too dangerous for you and it's too painful for me."

Rella was silent for a few moments, her face void of expression. She was still, except for the steady rise and fall of her shoulders with her breathing. She wanted to be strong. She wanted to be able to let go. She hated the way Serana was looking at her with those golden eyes that were no longer illuminated with her inner fire. She looked defeated, drained. Rella couldn't stand it, because she knew she was the one responsible for it. "Go."

"Rella…"

She stood, moving to the hearth, keeping her back to the vampire. She couldn't look at her anymore. She didn't want to see how much she was hurting her by simply being so close to her. "You've said your peace, now. You should leave."

"No, I haven't." A cool hand touched her wrist. It was so light she wasn't even sure it had happened at all. "I owe you so much, Rella. More than I could possibly hope to repay. You helped me stop my father. You released me from that tomb." The vampire's fingers had entwined with her own, now. The grip was gentle, but the soft tremble indicated she was fighting against the bloodlust, against the darker part of herself. "You gave me my life back."

Rella took her hand away. The movement was slow and almost hesitant, because truthfully she didn't want to, but she felt it was the right thing to do. If Serana was intent on leaving her again after this, she didn't want to prolong the pain. "When I released you from that tomb, I did so not knowing what was inside. I was there for the scroll, and you just happened to be in there with it. After that, I did what I had to do. I couldn't let Harkon carry out his plan, you know that."

Serana sighed, "I know, I-"

"Why are you still here?" Rella asked angrily, turning to face her again. "You want to leave. You've said so on more than one occasion, and yet you remain… sending me mixed messages, toying with my emotions…"

"Is that what you think? That I'm playing games with you?"

"You leave and it almost kills me," Rella said quietly. "You come back, and I'm filled with hope, with joy that you'll stay with me… and then you take it all away again by saying we shouldn't see each other anymore. It's not fair, Serana."

Serana's face softened for a moment, but then hardened again almost straight away, "Again, if you hadn't decided to explore that godforsaken ruin; if you hadn't taken it upon yourself to feed me with your blood, we wouldn't be in this situation."

"I did it because I couldn't bear to see you in such agony! I wanted to help you, and in that moment, that was the only way I knew how…" she felt tears begin to prick at her eyes, and she blinked them away furiously. "I would do anything to protect you, and you know that." She turned away again, wrapping her arms around her middle as if to keep herself from falling apart.

Silence filled the room, disturbed only by the crackle and spit of the fire. Rella's heart was beating so heavily in her chest she wondered if Serana could hear it, too.

"He'll be awake soon," the vampire finally said.

She wasn't sure what she'd expected Serana to say, but it certainly hadn't been that. She raised a hand to quickly dab at her eyes, and then spun around. The stone floor was saturated with water – as well as sprinkled with spatters of her blood – and Isran's body was no longer fully encased in ice. "Serana, you need to leave. Quickly. If you go he can't hurt you again."

Serana glanced morosely at the Dragonborn. "But he could hurt you, instead. He _has_ hurt you. Come with me."

The younger Nord shook her head sadly, "I can't leave Argis."

Serana moved towards her, grasping her face in her hands. "And I can't leave you."

A small smile crept across Rella's face. Her eyelids fluttered closed when Serana leant in close, but was stopped in her tracks by a torrent of thumps and yells coming from outside. "It must be the other soldiers," she murmured. "Isran must have warned them about me…"

"Rella, please…" the vampire's eyes pleaded with her in ways her words couldn't, and Rella knew she couldn't refuse.

And then it hit her.

She sprinted into her sleeping quarters, followed closely by Serana who demanded to know what in Talos's name she was doing, and hurriedly gathered her bow and quiver, slinging them both over her back. She thrust her Nightingale armour at the undead Nord and ripped the sheets from her bed, rushing back into the living area. She heaved Argis's unconscious form onto the sheet with Serana's help, and began to slide him along the floor towards the bookshelves.

"If you think covering him in books is a good camouflage, then you'd be wrong," Serana quipped.

Ignoring her comment, Rella stuck her arm in between the two shelves, feeling around for the switch she knew was there somewhere. When she found it, there was a click, and the shelf furthest away from the fireplace slid to the side, revealing a small opening in the stone wall behind it. It was slight enough that it was undetectable, and big enough that an average-sized body could fit through it. "You first," she said to Serana, who shot her a puzzled look, but did as she was told, slipping through the cavity with her usual, effortless grace.

"Pull him through," Rella said, tugging Argis towards the hole. She pushed on his shoulders as Serana pulled on his ankles. When he was through, the Dragonborn knelt and crawled inside herself. She pulled the chain hanging on the wall next to the aperture, and the bookshelf moved back across, plunging them into complete darkness – except for Serana's eyes. She cast a candlelight spell, raised a finger to her lips, and pointed forwards. The tunnel was narrow and low, forcing them to crawl silently on their hands and knees for a short distance, until it expanded to give them enough room to stand up – and drag Argis along.

"Where does this lead?" Serana questioned in a whisper, brushing a cobweb from her hair.

"I don't know," Rella replied softly. "But we'll find out."

"Thank God for Dwemer architecture," Serana muttered.

Rella chuckled lightly, and then grimaced, suddenly reminded of the pain in her shoulder.

Serana touched her arm. "You should rest."

"I'll be fine," she said. Repeating Isran's earlier words, she added, "I've suffered worse."

Serana started to rip off a strip of fabric from her robe, "Bind it, at least." She thrust it towards the Dovahkiin, who accepted it without protest. When she struggled to work the material around her wound and tie it, Serana offered to help. Flinching slightly as she moved closer, she said, "Here, let me."

As she made to reach for the cloth, Rella stopped her. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"I can do it." The vampire's voice was firm, and the corners of her mouth quirked in a helpless smile. She nodded, as if to reassure herself.

The Dragonborn could see the tension in her body, the stiffness of her arms and fingers as she wrapped the band across her shoulder. She wouldn't look at her. Not directly, at least. "Thank you," she said, wincing as Serana tied the ends together.

The older Nord looked at her, then. Her eyes were gleaming, reflecting the dim light of Rella's slowly waning candlelight spell. "I felt everything, you know."

"Felt what?" Rella questioned.

"When I was feeding from you," Serana began. "When you were conscious; I could feel… what you were feeling. Or at least I _knew_ what you were feeling."

"And what was I feeling?"

"Contentment… pleasure." She paused, letting her eyes fall to the ground. "Love."

Rella opened her mouth to respond, but a gruff groan halted her. She dropped down to one knee beside Argis, whose face crumpled into a scowl as he rubbed his head, where a large, vicious purple welt had begun to appear, and began to sit up.

"Where is that milkdrinker?" he asked grumpily. "I'll give him a blow to the head and see how he likes it..." Choosing now to take in his surroundings, he added, "… Where are we?"

"The tunnel underneath Vlindrel Hall," Rella explained. "The one _you_ told _me_ about. Remember? Now I know how you've been sneaking out to the tavern when you're supposed to be helping me," she grinned.

"You got me," he chortled. And then, "But seriously, all jokes aside, I've never actually been down here before."

"Really?" she asked. "You've never been curious?"

"I'm scared of the dark," he replied, smirking.

She stood, extending a hand for him. He took it, and she helped him up. Even using her uninjured arm, the pain still radiated across to her wounded shoulder and she grimaced again.

"What happened?" he asked, noticing her improvised bandage.

"Isran – the guy you encountered at the door – shot her with his crossbow," Serana informed him.

"Bastard. I should go back and cut out his eye! You're lucky I always keep some of these on me," he said as he reached into the pouch hanging from his belt and pulled out an intact pink bottle. "And that these little phials are tough as nails."

Rella took the potion from him, gulping it down hurriedly. Moments later, she sighed contentedly as the throbbing began to subside. "Thank you," she said.

"Let's go," Argis declared, taking the lead. "The sooner we get out of here, the sooner I can have an ale."

Rella glanced at Serana, whose eyes remained fixed firmly straight ahead. She reached over, grazing the vampire's elbow with her fingers. Serana turned to her slowly, and when Rella detected the melancholy lurking behind her eyes, she hoped that whatever troubled her now was something she could overcome. She didn't want to lose her again. She wasn't sure she could deal with the heartbreak all over again. She sent a silent prayer to Talos that she not lose her most treasured companion and most cherished friend again.

* * *

They hadn't been walking for long when the tunnel suddenly opened out into a large cavern faintly illuminated by the ethereal blue glowing mushrooms scattered across the ceiling. Murky water filled its floor, and Falmer stalked the winding, elevated walkways spread across the grotto, oblivious to their presence down below.

"What is this place?" Serana asked.

"This is Nchuand-Zel," replied Rella. "It's underneath Markarth. I've been here before… but… I was sure I killed those Falmer up there."

"Those creatures probably breed like rabbits," Argis piped up. "There's no way you would've been able to kill every single one of 'em."

"I suppose not," she half-heartedly agreed.

"How do we get out of here?" asked Serana.

"I would've thought this place would be… to your tastes," Argis said.

The vampire narrowed her eyes at him. "Just because I'm a vampire doesn't mean I like every cold and dark place in Skyrim."

Rella smirked at her words, having had them directed at herself not so long ago. "Come on. I think I can remember the way back to Understone Keep."

They moved quickly through Nchuand-Zel, relieved to enter the human-inhabited – or at least, guard-inhabited – Dwemer museum. Having previously aided Calcelmo with Nimhe, she was granted safe and legal passage through, which thankfully extended to her companions as well.

"What happens now?" Argis asked upon their entry into the Keep.

"You can't go back to Vlindrel Hall," Rella said. "Not yet, at least. Serana and I, we'll-"

"You should let me protect you," he cut in. "That's mainly what I'm here for, anyway."

Rella shook her head. "Once we're away from here, things will be easier. We'll be okay."

Argis shrugged, "Things weren't meant to be easy for you, Dragonborn."

"If you run into Isran, or any Dawnguard warriors, don't kill them," she said.

"I'm not sure they'd offer you the same courtesy, but I'll do as you ask."

"Thank you, Argis," she said, and squeezed his shoulder. "Go and get your ale. I'll write to you when we're settled somewhere safe."

* * *

It was the middle of the night when Rella and Serana slipped out of the city.

When they reached the stables, Rella mounted her horse, holding out her hand for the vampire to take. Serana glanced uncomfortably between the Dragonborn and the rear of the saddle. "Quickly," she said. "The Dawnguard could be anywhere."

"I'll ride by myself," Serana said quietly. "I don't think I can…"

At first, the Dovahkiin had felt affronted, but then realised that they would be in incredibly close proximity and that Serana wouldn't be able to handle it. She nodded in understanding, offering a sympathetic smile. "Of course." She inwardly cursed herself for being so inconsiderate.

"Where do we go?" Serana asked, untethering and mounting the lone black mare.

"I don't know," Rella replied. There were so many places they could go, so many places she was sure they'd be safe. It was a case of deciding where was best, and most secure. She let silence fall between them for a moment. In that brief time, she made a decision that was possibly one of the hardest she'd ever had to make. She found it even harder to say it out loud, "If you want to leave, go now. I won't look for you. Not again."

Serana didn't say anything for a short time. Her hand absently stroked the mare's mane as she stared numbly into the distant darkness. Finally, she turned towards Rella, whose mournful eyes betrayed the steely expression on her face. "I don't want to leave you. Not now. But won't be easy. For either of us."

For the first time since the disaster – her disaster – had begun, Rella's smile lit up her eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you all for such lovely feedback! To those who have reviewed as guests and that I can't personally reply back to - a huge thank you! And also a big thank you to Aysu - you've got private messaging disabled, so I can't reply to you unfortunately. I'd love to, though! ****  
**

**Once again, I really appreciate the time taken to read, follow and review this story, and all the support for it is absolutely wonderful. I honestly have no idea where I'm going with it in the long run - hell, I didn't even know where I was going to go with it when I started writing the first chapter - but I hope that I can give you something meaningful and worthwhile in the end. **

* * *

The night sky was embellished with stars and the waxing moon shone down upon them, lighting a silvery trail. A gentle, cool breeze tickled their skin, leaving a trail of light, wintry kisses in its wake. The gates of Riften stood a short distance from them, finally in their sights after days and days of travelling. As they approached, the two guards that flanked the entrance didn't seem to even acknowledge their presence and Rella supposed they were probably asleep beneath their helmets. A wicked thought about summoning Durnehviir to scare them silly flashed across her mind, but she pushed it aside with a wry grin. It would attract too much attention, not to mention be rather a cruel thing to do. One day, perhaps, she thought, when she was growing old and was in need of something to do to amuse herself.

"Wouldn't it be safer for us to go somewhere… less populated?" asked Serana as they walked into the city. "Isran's probably got Dawnguard agents all over the place."

"If he has, he wouldn't have more than one in each city," said Rella. "The Dawnguard doesn't have that many recruits."

"It has enough," said Serana. "We need to be very careful."

Riften was quiet; the city asleep. A handful of guards wandered round with flaming torches, waiting for trouble, but it wasn't often that any came. Dragon attacks inside the city walls were a rarity, and since Rella and Serana had stopped Lord Harkon, the frequency of attacks from vampires had reduced significantly.

They passed through a metal gate that led to the grassy section behind the buildings, and followed the path to the graveyard behind the Temple of Mara. "I might sleep in a coffin every now and again, but that doesn't mean I want to set up home in a graveyard," said Serana as they approached the lone sheltered burial chamber. "Don't you own a house here?"

"There's a place for sale next to the harbour," Rella replied, "Honeyside, I think it's called. But according to the Jarl, I'm not esteemed enough here to be able to buy it." She paused, stepping beneath the stone canopy, letting her fingers graze the wall. She was taking a reasonable risk by bringing her companion here, and hoped that it would pay off. Or at the very least, not blow up in her face like the last time she made a huge decision. "And anyway, we aren't staying in the graveyard." She reached out to press the switch at the front of the sarcophagus that made up the inner circle of the Thieves Guild emblem. Serana remarked quietly that she'd seen the symbol somewhere before as Rella took her hand away. The agate casket slid backwards to reveal a dark, descending stone staircase. Without a word, the Dragonborn began down, followed by a silent Serana. She pulled the chain hanging from the wall, entombing them in darkness. She cast a candlelight spell to illuminate a short distance in front of her, though she'd made the brief journey so many times she was sure light wasn't necessary.

It wasn't long before they came to an opening in the ground and the Dovahkiin dropped through it, keeping her arms close to her body. She landed gracefully and stepped aside for Serana, who'd made a squeak of shock when Rella had disappeared without warning. "If you're scared, I'll catch you," she said drily.

"I thought I was the sarcastic one in this relationship," the vampire returned when she'd come down to Rella's level.

Rella was silent for a few moments upon hearing Serana's choice of words. It was probably intended to be an offhanded comment, but it caught the Dragonborn's attention nonetheless. Despite this, she refrained from focusing on it for the sole reason that she wanted to be sure of Serana's feelings towards her. What had – almost – happened at Vlindrel Hall might have simply been an impulse; in the heat of the moment, Serana may have felt things as a result of the intensity of the situation. Rella didn't want to overwhelm her or put her in a potentially uncomfortable position. Truthfully, she wanted to hold onto the hope than have it dashed by forcing Serana to acknowledge their predicament. "I'm the Dragonborn. I'm allowed to be," she finally countered, trying to maintain the light-hearted atmosphere. She started down the tunnel, nudging a particularly plump rat out of the way with her boot.

"Playing the 'I'm the Dragonborn' card again, are we?" the vampire queried rhetorically. And then, "Why does this place smell like a sewer?"

"Because it is a sewer."

"We could go anywhere in Skyrim and you take us down here," Serana groaned, crinkling up her nose as they were hit by the full force of the unpleasant stench permeating the tunnels. "You really know how to show a girl a good time…"

"It won't be so bad when we get to the cistern," said Rella, unfazed. She'd been down there so often she'd grown mostly accustomed to the foul-smelling air. "We aren't far away."

True to her word, within a few steps, they arrived at a trapdoor, where scrawled haphazardly on the wood was '_The Ragged Flagon'_ as well as the crest of the Guild.

"The Ragged Flagon…" Serana read aloud. "What's that?"

"It's a tavern. And home to the Thieves Guild," Rella explained, yanking the door open. She began down the ladder that took the form of a series of iron bars affixed to the stone. She kept herself steady mostly with her undamaged side, but there was still an ache in her shoulder that flared up with every step down. It didn't help that the rungs were moist with condensation and so every now and again she'd feel as though she was going to slip and be forced to grip tighter to keep from falling.

When she joined Rella at the bottom, Serana said, "So they'll let you just… walk right in? Unless you're…" she trailed off, suddenly putting two and two together. After a long period of silence, she remarked coolly, "I didn't know you were a… thief."

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me," the Dovahkiin replied, matching her tone.

"And so the allure of the Dragonborn diminishes somewhat when it turns out she's a petty criminal," Serana drawled disdainfully.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you're one of the most renowned and powerful people in Skyrim and yet you're a member of a group that makes its fortune by taking from others what they've rightfully and honestly earned through hard work," Serana said. "It's not fair."

"Life isn't fair, Serana," the Dragonborn said curtly. "And anyway, why should you judge me?" She tried not to let her anger touch her voice too strongly. "I'm not perfect, and I never claimed to be. Just be thankful I didn't join the Dark Brotherhood."

"I just… it was unexpected, that's all," Serana said, taken aback.

"I'm sorry it makes you uncomfortable," said Rella. "That's all I seem to do, isn't it? Make you feel uncomfortable."

"No, don't say that…" Serana began.

"If this is going to be a problem for you, then we can go elsewhere," the Dragonborn's voice softened, realising that she too would probably feel the same amount of animosity in the vampire's situation. "But right now, this is the safest place for us. Trust me."

"I do trust you, I just…" Serana said. "This is…"

"It's a lot to take in, I know." She wanted to reach out and touch her arm, to reassure her, but thought better of it. "I can't expect you to just accept something like this so readily. By the Nine, you don't even have to accept it at all. But believe it or not, these are good people, and we'll be safe here. I promise." She gave her a small smile. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Serana returned the smile with one of her own albeit uneasily, but it served to alleviate some of the Dovahkiin's concerns. "Lead the way, then," she said.

There was another trapdoor situated a short distance down the tunnel from the first, messily labelled in the same fashion. When this one opened, however, the faint sound of voices drifted through.

"It isn't exactly secure, is it?" Serana whispered. "Anyone could press that button outside and waltz right in…"

"The chances of that happening are very slim," Rella said, lowering herself down. "What you didn't notice is that I disarmed three traps as we came through the tunnels. The likelihood of an intruder getting past them is very small – especially since they were designed so that only Guild members would be able to deactivate them."

"Oh…" was all Serana could say in response.

It had been four months since the last time she was in the Flagon and the only noticeable difference was the number of trophies that were surrounding the Guildmaster's desk. She counted at least three that she couldn't recall being in the collection before, one of which was an exquisite clover-shaped ornamental gold shield. Brynjolf was standing behind the table, tracing the lines of what she presumed to be a map with his finger. Vipir was standing next to him, listening, but letting his eyes wander the chamber instead of the chart. When he spotted Rella, he nudged Brynjolf, who looked up from the table, grinned, and made his way towards her. He was just crossing the centre of the cistern when Serana dropped down behind her, and his brow crumpled.

Rella walked forwards to meet him, "Brynjolf," she greeted. "This is my companion, Serana." She gestured behind her, where Serana waved awkwardly at him. "I vow she is no threat to us, or to the security of the Guild."

Brynjolf regarded the vampire carefully for a short time, and then returned his gaze to the Dragonborn. "I trust you, so I'll trust her," he said. The mellifluous lilt of his accent was a comfort to her. "You're responsible for her. Got that?"

"Of course," Rella replied.

Satisfied, Brynjolf smiled at her. "Welcome back, lass." He opened his arms to her, and she stepped into his embrace without any hesitation. "It's been too long. I hope you've brought some stories back with you. Delvin's been trying his hand at poetry, and let's just say he shouldn't rush to give up thieving anytime soon." He squeezed her briefly before letting her go, and when a whimper escaped from her mouth, he asked, "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

She raised a hand, resting it on her shoulder. "It's just a scratch."

"And if a puncture wound is just a scratch then I'm the Lusty Argonian Maid," Serana piped up. "She was shot with a crossbow; close range."

"I hadn't had chance to treat it properly yet," Rella said meekly.

"Let me have a look at it," he said gently, resting his big hand on her uninjured arm. "It's almost tradition for me to patch you up after a brawl, after all," he chuckled.

He took her to one of the side rooms leading off from the cistern where they'd have a little more privacy. Serana followed close by, ignoring Brynjolf's suggestion to 'make herself at home', and settled into a crooked wooden chair in the corner. Rella's fellow Nightingale gathered a selection of medicinal items as she perched on the edge of the bed in the centre of the small chamber and removed the cloth that had been previously used to cover the injury.

"So what were you doing letting someone get that close with a crossbow, eh?" he said facetiously. He gestured to her tunic with a handful of dressing, "I'm afraid that's going to have to go, lassie."

Obliging, Rella started to lift it, but without the use of both her arms found it difficult. Seeing that she was struggling, Brynjolf set down the supplies and moved to help her. "It's nothing I haven't seen before, mind you," he said, chuckling.

She laughed awkwardly, casting a quick glance over to Serana, who seemed to be intently studying something on the floor. Brynjolf dragged a stool to the edge of the bed and seated himself next to the Dragonborn. He spent a few minutes examining the wound closely, and then another few cleaning away the congealed and crusty blood around the perforation. Every so often, Rella would notice Serana looking at her in her periphery, but whenever she turned her head to look upon her in return, the older Nord would occupy herself with the floor again. The vampire had seen her in various states of undress before and not appeared visibly bothered by it at all, but this time she seemed tense and unusually on edge; restless and fidgety, wringing her hands together in her lap. Eventually, she stood and abruptly left the room, mumbling something about needing some air.

"Is she okay?" Brynjolf asked.

She flinched as he applied the salve to her wound, sucking in a sharp breath. She often thought the healing process was worse than getting the actual wound. "She will be," Rella replied wearily. "There's… a lot going on right now."

"And what about you?" he inquired, beginning to gently wrap the gauze around her shoulder. "I can tell when there's something bothering you, lass." He tucked the loose end of the bandage underneath the rest of the strapping to keep it from unwinding itself. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

Rella sighed, picking up her tunic and holding it up to survey the damage. It was covered in her blood. She'd have to throw it away – no amount of scrubbing was going to get it out. "It's… complicated."

"If I had a gold coin for every time I heard that…" he teased. Having observed her stained tunic and come to the same conclusion, he walked over to the dresser and rummaged around for another top she could wear.

He threw an ochre garb at her and she eased it over her wounded arm first, and then wriggled inelegantly to get her other arm through. She chose to leave the threading at the front of the bodice undone, partly due to laziness and partly because she'd already decided she wasn't going to be wearing it for long.

"Whatever it is, you can count on me to watch your back," Brynjolf said when she stood, resting his hands on her shoulders. His thumbs gently massaged just above her collarbone, relaxing her. "I'll do all I can to help you; you know I will." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, tucking a stray strand of her chestnut hair behind her ear. "But if this trouble you're in is going to affect the rest of the Guild, you need to tell me."

She thought back to what had happened at Vlindrel Hall and how Isran had assaulted Agris simply for being her housecarl. He wasn't going to let anyone stand in his way. And he _won't_ let anyone stand in his way. "It won't," she said. It wasn't an outright lie. She and Serana weren't going to stay there long enough for it to become a problem for the rest of the Guild. She'd make sure of it.

"Good," he grinned. "Now go check your friend's okay. She didn't look too peachy before."

* * *

Rella found Serana sitting in the darkest corner of the cistern. In fact, they were all as dark as each other, but this one was also the closest to the exit ladder. She was sitting cross-legged on a frayed and tattered scarlet cushion with a book splayed across her lap. Gone were her jitters, replaced with the same serenity that the Dragonborn often admired and found so comforting in times of strife.

"Are you… feeling alright?" Rella asked tentatively.

The vampire looked up at her wearily, but she nodded. "I'm fine."

The younger Nord wasn't sure she believed her, but chose not to dispute it. "Do you want a drink? There's actually a tavern down here; it's not just Guild cover. It's not big, but-"

"Why thieving?" Serana cut in, ignoring her question entirely. "Of all the things you could have been, why did you become a thief?"

"I…"

The vampire shook her head, closing the book in front of her. "Never mind," she said. "It's none of my business. Forget I asked."

Rella knelt beside her slowly, placing a hand on her forearm. She could feel her tense, but she didn't move away, giving the Dovahkiin the confidence to speak. "I don't want to hide anything from you," she said.

"Then why?" The vampire looked searchingly into her eyes.

"Before I knew I was a Dragonborn. Before Alduin reappeared… I was sentenced to death for a crime I didn't commit," Rella said quietly. She'd avoided this topic of conversation for so long. She didn't want to remember the life she had before she became the Dragonborn. She wanted to forget; wanted to pretend the Rella before didn't exist; wasn't a part of her. "My head was on the block, the executioner had raised his axe. I was so sure I was going to die that day. And then the attack came." She leant back against the dank wall, refraining from meeting Serana's curious gaze. "Helgen was obliterated, and I was… I was free. But I had nothing. I _was_ nothing. Brynjolf… The Thieves Guild… they offered me food and shelter; a livelihood. They taught me skills that are now invaluable to my cause. Without them… I wouldn't be the person that I am now."

"So you weren't a criminal, and then they made you into one," Serana commented bluntly.

"It wasn't like that," Rella said, her voice taking on a firm edge. "They didn't make me into one. I chose to do so of my own accord. I wanted to repay them for the kindness they'd shown me."

"So buy them a bouquet of flowers or something-"

"If you want to leave, just leave," Rella snapped. "I'm not holding you here against your will. You're free to go whenever you wish." She didn't want her to leave, but in that moment she'd felt provoked, and the words just tumbled from her mouth. "But I'm not going to give up the Guild and the people that helped me when I needed them the most. They're my friends; my colleagues. Even if it would make you happy – I just can't." She felt her eyes well with tears of frustration and she turned her head away from Serana. She couldn't seem to do anything right lately. It seemed that no matter what she did, someone, somewhere, would always end up unhappy.

"I'm sorry." Serana's voice was soft. Pale fingers slid into the gaps between her own. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I shouldn't have been so insensitive." She sighed, softly stroking the skin on the back of the Dragonborn's hand with her thumb. If she was struggling with their closeness, she didn't show it. "I of all people should know what it's like to feel deeply indebted to someone."

Rella wiped quickly at her eyes with her free hand and turned to look at her. She tried to sound light-hearted as she spoke, but her words were mirthless and her tone glum. "So that's the only reason you're staying, is it? Because you feel like you owe me one?"

"Of course not," Serana said earnestly. "I'm staying because…" she gave the Dragonborn's hand a squeeze, "because…"

"And what do we have here?" Rella recognised the delighted-at-interrupting and sneering tone instantly.

Serana snatched her hand away upon the verbal intrusion, and the Dragonborn's head snapped up to glare at the person encroaching on their conversation; angrier for them having done so at a potentially crucial point. "Vex," she muttered.

"Rella." The blonde's eyes bored into her; almost hungrily, like a predator would its prey. She wore a vague smirk as she stood looking down at them, arms folded across her chest. They'd never been on particularly bad terms, but nor particularly good ones, either. There was a sense of mutual respect between them – which, of course, Rella had had to earn, but earned it she had – as well as inexplicit competitiveness and taunting. "Who's your friend?" she asked, inclining her head towards the undead Nord.

They both rose from their places on the floor, then, becoming level with the blonde thief. "Serana," Rella said, gesturing to her vampiric companion. And then, to Vex, "Serana, this is…"

"Vex," the Imperial finished, pushing Rella's hand away and holding out a gloved one of her own for Serana to take, "master thief, Daedric worshipper, formidable lover…" she grinned, quirking her eyebrows at Rella. "The second one's a joke, by the way; I just like to see how people react."

"It's… nice to meet you," Serana said, gauchely obliging the handshake.

"What fascinating eyes you have," Vex remarked, scrutinising Serana closely beneath her hood, angling her neck so she could get a better look. "And what a pretty little thing you are. I see why Rella keeps you around." She laughed drily.

"What do you want, Vex?" asked Rella impatiently.

"I just came to say hello to our new visitor," Vex drawled. "It's the polite thing to do, no?"

"And now that you've said hello, you can go."

"Tut, tut, little Dovahkiin," Vex said. "There's no need to be rude. If I didn't know better I might think you were trying to get rid of me." She reached forwards, twirling a strand of Rella's hair around her finger. "And you haven't even told me how you missed me so."

She glanced to the side, where Vex's hand was tangled in her hair. "Because I'd be lying."

The blonde put a hand over her heart, feigning shock. "You wound me, Dragonborn."

"I'm sure you'll survive," Rella said.

"I always do…" Vex grinned, winking at her. "Anyway, as much as I'm enjoying this little… threesome, Brynjolf and I need to discuss finances and other tedious Guild matters, so I shall leave you to… whatever. Have a drink in the Flagon on me," she dropped a few gold coins into Rella's palm and turned to walk away. "It was nice meeting you… Serena."

"It's Serana," the vampire said to the blonde's back.

Vex waved a hand as she sauntered off towards the other side of the cistern, calling back, "Yeah. That."

Rella let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand. "That woman…" She turned back to look at Serana, who had a faintly bemused expression on her face. "I'm sorry. She has a talent for making people feel uncomfortable."

"I see that," Serana said, a hint of amusement twinkling in her eyes.

The Dragonborn wanted to return to the conversation, to what Serana had been about to say, but somehow she knew the vampire wouldn't want to go back there. Not yet, anyway. Behind the amusement was something else. Fear, perhaps? Apprehension? She didn't know. She wasn't going to push for it. For now, she would wait. It was all she could ask for and more that the vampire was there with her. She wouldn't do anything that could possibly jeopardise that.

She jangled the coins in her hand. "Drink?" she offered.

Serana smiled slowly, "Only if you're buying."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Major angst-alert for this chapter. I can't help it. It's an addiction. **

* * *

The Dragonborn set down two tankards of ale on the table, taking her seat opposite her vampiric companion.

"Sorry about the wait," said Rella. "Delvin cornered me and started hounding me about Stones of Barenziah."

"I knew her, once," Serana commented. "Second Era – before I was entombed by my mother. Slippery little Dunmer, that girl."

Rella raised her eyebrows in surprise, but then remembered that she was talking to a Daughter of Coldharbor. "I keep forgetting you're… old."

"Not that old," said Serana with an impish expression. "Just, you know, a few thousand years."

"It really shows," Rella teased.

The vampire frowned playfully, unable to keep up the façade for longer than a few seconds. She decided to tease the younger Nord in return. "That colour really brings out your eyes," she said, grinning mischievously and nodding to the borrowed tunic Rella was wearing.

The Dovahkiin rolled her eyes, chuckling lightly as she glanced down at herself. "I'd have preferred something darker, myself." She started to readjust it at the front slightly, aware that its design meant there was more of her chest on show than she would have liked. She took faint satisfaction in the fact that Serana's gaze lingered there for a few moments longer than her hands, but chose not to indicate that she noticed. "But beggars can't be choosers, I suppose." She took a sip of her ale. It was wonderfully refreshing after going so long without. On their journey to Riften they'd hardly stopped at all, wanting to get as far ahead as the Dawnguard as possible. At one point they'd travelled nonstop for two whole days. "I'm glad you're here," she said.

Serana smiled, and it caused the Dragonborn's heart to flutter inside her chest like a little butterfly. She was so achingly beautiful. The glow of her eyes, the curve of her cheekbones, the fullness of her lips; she was stunning. Rella had thought it so many times before, but never once told her. She supposed she'd been scared of what Serana might think or say in response. She felt less afraid, now, but still couldn't pluck up the courage. _Coward!_ She inwardly cried. She'd fought Ancient Dragons, Dwarven Centurions and Lord Harkon and yet she couldn't bring herself to say such simple words to the undead Nord sitting before her. She'd even poured her heart out to her before now, but this was different. This was acknowledging that she found her attractive; that she _was_ attracted to her. That much she'd never explicitly said before. She supposed the vampire already knew, especially after their near-kiss in Vlindrel Hall, but she hadn't mentioned it since. Perhaps she too thought it was due to the gravity of the situation. She'd even said herself that she'd experienced what Rella had been feeling at the time. Could it be that the transference of emotions had stirred something within her that had previously lain dormant? Or was it simply that - a transference of emotions that had disoriented her and influenced her behaviour for a short period of time?

"You don't have to wear your hood in here, you know," the Dragonborn said eventually, not realising she'd been somewhat lost in a reverie; enchanted.

"I know," said Serana, but made no move to remove it. Her eyes were wandering the Flagon, skimming over the Guild members dotted around the vicinity. Rella doubted she was conscious of it, but there was a vague expression of distaste rendered on her pretty, pallid face.

"Why do you feel so strongly towards thieves?" she asked. It had been bothering her ever since Serana had expressed her disfavour with the idea that she was a member of the Guild, niggling away in the back of her mind like an annoying insect. She realised the vampire had never actually given a proper explanation as to why she had a problem with it, only asked the Dragonborn her motives for joining.

Serana looked down into her drink before answering her. "I don't…" she began, nibbling on her lower lip and drawing a long breath.

Rella didn't particularly want to cause their conversation to turn sour, but she couldn't shake her curiosity. It seemed odd to her that she would have such concern with it. If she knew why, she might be able to change her mind, or at the very least, make her feel more comfortable with the idea. "Your reaction tells me otherwise." It wasn't an accusatory statement; thoughtful, if anything.

The vampire was nervously twisting the enchanted ring on her index finger. It was a sign that perhaps her answer wasn't going to be one that was easy to hear. "It's not really them that I have an issue with."

"So _I'm_ the one you have an issue with?" Rella frowned.

"No, not you… just… you being one," she quietly replied. Her gaze remained in her lap, ashamed of what she was saying.

"Why?" Rella probed. "If you're going to interrogate me about why I became a thief, then I think I have the right to interrogate you about why you're so concerned about it."

"It wasn't exactly an interrogation. I didn't have you tied to a chair, threatening to cut your fingers off if you didn't tell me what I wanted to know," Serana argued, half-sarcastically.

Rella waved her hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter what it was. You asked a question, I gave an honest answer. I think I deserve one in return." As she waited for a response, she absently fiddled with the diamond-shaped pendant hanging around her neck. Her finger touched the amethyst at its centre that was circumscribed with intricate, swirling decoration on the metal. When she'd been arrested, one of the Imperial soldiers that had taken a shine to her had allowed her to keep it, and she'd held it tightly in her hand as the executioner had raised his axe. He was dead, now; that soldier. Killed in the attack. He'd helped her stand up; told her to get inside. He'd shoved her out of the way as Alduin's savage jaws closed around his torso and tore him to pieces.

It was the only thing she had that connected her to her previous life. Although she didn't want to remember, neither did she truly want to forget. It was a reminder that she still sought to find those who had taken everything away from her.

The vampire swirled the last mouthfuls of ale around the bottom of her tankard. "Ever since we started travelling together, you—you always strived to do the right thing. You'd always give people the benefit of the doubt; always tried to solve things without using violence or intimidation." A beat. Rella remained silent, waiting for her to continue. "Of course, that didn't work all the time, but you never let it change the way you handled things from then on. You were so morally good and righteous and I… well, I admired you so strongly for it." She began to trace the blemishes on the wood with her forefinger, her gaze still avoiding the young Nord sitting opposite her. "The fact that you're a thief… it—it almost discounts all of that. I don't know how to explain it properly, but… it just makes me feel like… I don't really know who you are, now. I'm not sure if I even knew you at all. You're the Dragonborn, and yet behind all that, behind all your moral integrity, you're a… criminal."

Rella was silent as she let Serana's words sink in. She didn't expect her reply to flow so quickly and freely from her lips, and the moment it did, she sorely wished it hadn't. "Vampires aren't so different to thieves, you know. And at least a thief takes material possessions."

The words hung there between them, irreversible. The Dragonborn wished she could reach out and snatch them back and throw them away as far as she could; burn them with her Thu'um; cut them to shreds with a knife. They were intangible, but that didn't mean they didn't hurt as fiercely as the sharp edge of a blade. "I didn't mean–"

The expression on the vampire's face was one of unadulterated dismay and disbelief. "You have no right," her voice was laced with anger as she spoke. "You have absolutely no right to say that."

Rella reached out to take her hand, but the vampire snatched it away as if she'd been burnt. "Serana, please, I didn't mean it like that."

"It certainly sounded like you did." She stood up abruptly, nearly sending her stool flying across the Flagon. Her shoulders heaved with her furious breathing as she glared down at the rueful Dovahkiin. "I can't believe you of all people would say something like that," she hissed. Her eyes were burning with anger and the tears caused them to glisten even more fiercely with her anguish.

"I'm sorry," said Rella, rising from her chair.

Neither of them were paying attention to the inquiring stares they were getting from the other members of the Guild. Delvin and Dirge were observing them gleefully at the bar, chinking their tankards together in celebration of a dramatic display. Vex leant casually against the stack of barrels in the corner, arms folded across her chest and trademark smug smirk on her face. Tonilia, seated on the wooden veranda in the centre of the pool, rolled her eyes at the spectacle, but continued watching anyway.

"You know I don't have a choice!" the vampire cried.

"I know, I–"

Serana turned on her heel and stormed towards the passageway leading to the cistern. Rella followed her, ignoring the assembly of her colleagues that were fascinatedly witnessing their heated exchange. "Where are you going?"

"Stay away from me!" the undead Nord shouted as they entered into the cistern.

Brynjolf was standing on the stone dais in the centre of the chamber, his myrtle eyes trailing their advance as they approached the exit ladder leading up to the graveyard.

"We need to talk about this!" pleaded Rella.

The vampire spun around just as they reached the bottom of the ladder. She glared at the Dragonborn, eyes blazing like dragon's fire, her tone cold as the Winterhold snow. "I have _nothing_ to say to you." She began to climb the ladder, disappearing through the trapdoor in a matter of seconds.

Rella made to go after her – her healing wound suddenly flaring in pain as if to punish her for her foolish words, slowing her down – but Brynjolf rested a pacifying hand on her shoulder that stayed her temporarily. "Let her go, lass," he said. "She'll come round."

She shrugged it away, "No. It's not safe for her up there by herself." She began to climb the ladder quickly, ignoring the ache in her shoulder. She heard her fellow Nightingale say something else to her as she pulled herself up through the trapdoor, but was too distracted by the pain in her shoulder and her hasty pursuit of Serana to listen.

The sarcophagus concealing the hidden entrance was sliding slowly across just as she reached the stairs. She slipped through the gap as it returned to its place, and saw Serana standing over by the shrine to Talos, back turned and hands fisted at her sides. The chill of the night air nibbled at the Dragonborn's bare skin as she approached her, wrapping her arms around herself to try and stop the warmth from escaping her body, "Serana, please come back inside. I'm sorry."

"That was low, even for you," the vampire growled.

"I know, and if I could take it back…"

"Maybe there _is_ still a part of you loyal to the Dawnguard after all," Serana spat. "I'd have expected someone like Isran to say that, but not you. I guess I was wrong."

"That's not fair," Rella glowered. "He and I are _nothing_ alike! How can you even make that comparison?"

"You certainly didn't make it difficult."

"Isran and I… the Dawnguard… we share nothing in common," the Dragonborn contended.

"And yet you still joined them," Serana returned coolly. "You still charged into Castle Volkihar with them and slaughtered every single vampire inside."

The Dovahkiin raked a desperate hand through her hair. "What choice did we have? Even if we'd killed only Harkon, one of the others might have taken up his mantle instead. Can you honestly say you would have trusted any of them not to do so?"

"I would have given them the benefit of the doubt," the vampire said quietly. "That's what you would have done, had you not been blinded by Isran's influence."

"Don't start acting all high and mighty, Serana," said Rella. "You aren't so morally perfect, either. I think you're forgetting about the fact that you _drugged_ me. That's not what friends do! You left me alone and defenceless in a hut in the middle of a forest; I could have been attacked by any number of wild animals. I could have had my throat slit in the middle of the night by an assassin!"

"_Friends_ don't force their vampiric companions to drink their blood, either!" Serana argued back.

"You're really going back there? I thought we were past that!" Rella said exasperatedly. She took no notice of the twinge in her shoulder as she inhaled deeply, her whole body tense with irritation.

"Yes, I am. Because that's what started this whole mess in the first place!" yelled Serana.

"Well forgive me for wanting to help you when you were in so much pain. That's what friends are supposed to do, isn't it – help each other?"

"I didn't ask for your help."

"No, you didn't," Rella agreed soberly. "But I couldn't just stand back and watch you suffer. I couldn't just leave you alone and vulnerable in the depths of a Nord ruin, could I? What if there were more draugr? What if, when I'd gone to get help, they'd found you? Where would you be, then?"

Serana was silent, her ochre eyes like two candles aflame in the darkness. "I would have been fine," she finally said.

"Oh for Talos' sake, Serana, you couldn't move! Are you really going to continue to be so stubborn?" Rella closed her eyes, rubbing the space between her eyebrows with the heel of her palm. She let out a long, somnolent sigh, holding her hands up in defeat. "I'm not going to argue with you anymore. I can't offer you anything more than my sincere apology, so do with that what you will. But please, come back inside where I know you'll be safe. You don't have to speak a word to me; you don't even have to remain in the same room as me, but I can at least take comfort from the fact that you'll be out of harm's way."

A flash of regret was visible on the vampire's features, if just for a moment. It retreated quickly, replaced once again by one of frustration. "I'll rent a room in the Bee and Barb," she said.

Rella nodded solemnly. Though she would have preferred Serana return to the Flagon with her, as long as she was staying in Riften she found no reason to object. The thought that she might flee the city as soon as her back was turned briefly crossed her mind, but she chose to believe she wouldn't do so. She hoped with every miniscule fragment of her soul that her faith wasn't misplaced. To lose her again when she had just succeeded in getting her back… it didn't bear thinking about. "As you wish." She turned and started back towards the tomb but paused after taking a few steps. "Be careful," she told her gently. When she chanced a look behind her, Serana was already gone.

That night, she dreamt of Helgen.

* * *

A hard foot against her back pushed her down onto the wooden block, scraping the base of her neck on its crude indentation. She felt blood beading on her broken skin, but it was of no concern to her, now. In less than a few minutes, she'd be dead. In her homeland, at least, she thought bitterly, echoing that Imperial soldier Hadvar's words as he'd called her up.

As the headsman raised his axe, she thought of her family and how she'd never be able to avenge them now. She clutched the pendant tightly in her hand, whispering a silent apology.

And then, a booming roar in the distance. A black shape appeared against the blue, wings outstretched magnificently, its spined body soaring through the air. She heard the Imperials shouting as it landed on the tower behind the headsman, the force shaking the ground violently and causing him to stagger.

"Dragon!" she heard someone cry. It was majestic, malevolent.

The executioner lifted himself to his feet, facing towards the gnarled beast atop the turret. It roared again, turning the skies into swirling clouds of grey and black, with flashes of lightning and cracks of thunder quaking the earth. The third time, an invisible shockwave hit her and she was rammed backwards, her head slamming painfully against the ground. Bursts of darkness flared across her eyes, her vision blurring as her head spun.

Someone's arm wrapped around her side, and a hand clamped her upper arm, forcing her to stand. Through the haze she recognised him as the kindly old Imperial soldier with only one eye. He told her she reminded him of his daughter, once. "Get up, girl!" he yelled.

He helped her towards the south-western tower, keeping her upright each time she stumbled. He shouldn't be helping her, she thought, his superiors will punish him for this.

A rumble next to them caused them both to lose their footing, and as she scrambled to her feet she turned to see the dragon clambering towards them at an alarming pace. She shrieked, clinging to the soldier's arm.

"Go!" he shouted, and shoved her towards the stone doorway where a Stormcloak prisoner was waiting to grab hold of her and pull her to safety.

The dragon's maw snapped around the Imperial's trunk, its sharp teeth wicked daggers that pierced straight through his leather uniform. Blood exploded from his ruptured body, splashing her and colouring the dirt and grass crimson.

She woke up screaming.

* * *

The following afternoon, the Dragonborn arose from her bed following a night of intermittent sleep. At the foot of her bed she found a set of weathered leathers with a scrawled note from Tonilia telling her they were old stock and that there was a hole in the bottom of the left boot so not to go stepping in any puddles.

She ate a small meal in the Flagon, not feeling particularly hungry, washing it down with two tankards of ale, a dash of whiskey and a finger of rum. She was standing at the edge of the pool watching the glittering ripples of the water when Vex sauntered towards her, hips swaying languidly in her black leather armour. "You didn't tell me you were into leeches, Dragonborn." She smirked, quirking an eyebrow.

Rella's eyes flared with fire, head snapping to look at her. She wasn't in the mood for Vex's taunts. "You'll keep that to yourself if you know what's good for you." Her words were aggressive, but she didn't care. Despite their quarrel, protecting Serana was still of the utmost importance, and the fewer people knew she was a vampire, the better. If Vex was going to pose a problem or a threat to her safety, the Dragonborn wouldn't hesitate to put a stop to it by any means necessary.

"Relax," Vex said defensively, holding her hands up. "Her secret's safe with me." Her sneer returned, "But you owe me one."

Rella's nod was curt, but definitive. Vex was the last person she wanted to be indebted to, but a deal was a deal, and if the blonde was going to uphold her end of the bargain, then she was more than happy to do the same if it was for Serana's benefit.

"Say it," the blonde ordered, resting her hands on her hips. She was enjoying toying with the Dragonborn. Serana was her Achilles' heel; the chink in her armour. And she was going to exploit that weakness for all it was worth. "Or would you prefer I have you sign a written contract?"

"I owe you one," the Dovahkiin complied listlessly, putting slight emphasis on the last word.

Vex took a steady intake of breath and made a noise that sounded vaguely like one of arousal. "Reminds you of old times, doesn't it? Me… telling you what to do…" When she didn't succeed in getting an explicit reaction from her, the blonde tilted her head contemplatively, switching to a different tack. "Rella the leech-lover… And I thought I was an enigma. Though, I can understand why you'd like her. She's exactly your type. Dark and mysterious… powerful... and let's not forget – irritatingly beautiful."

"Feeling threatened by her, are you?" questioned Rella, imitating the blonde's derisive expression.

"Oh, not at all," replied Vex. "On the contrary, I think your little bloodsucker's the one that feels threatened." She moved closer and Rella could feel her warm breath caress her lips. "And not just by me." She nodded towards Brynjolf, who was standing at the centre of the cistern talking to Cynric. "That one wasn't just a one-time thing, was it?"

The Nord narrowed her eyes at her, "That's none of your business."

"Oh, please," scoffed Vex, pulling away and folding her arms across her chest. "That was the worst-kept secret the guild has ever seen. At least Karliah and Gallus were a little more… subtle… when it came to their romantic trysts."

The Dragonborn's nostrils flared, her voice dripping with venom. "You will hold your tongue, lest I cut it out." She almost hated her. Almost.

Vex gasped, but it was simply for show. She wasn't afraid of the Dragonborn and never had been. "Such vile words from such a pretty mouth!" she exclaimed melodramatically. Then, grinning salaciously, "You know very well what I can do with this tongue of mine, Dragonborn… would you truly want to put an end to that?"

"It would certainly make things a lot quieter," Rella retorted.

Vex laughed, throwing her head back as she did so, exposing her olive throat as if inviting the Nord to slash it. "My, my, your sense of humour isn't entirely non-existent, it would seem."

"And now that I've entertained you for a few minutes, perhaps you wouldn't mind leaving me alone."

"Always in such a rush to get rid of me," purred Vex. "I only want to talk to you… but, if you'd prefer something other than talking…" she grazed Rella's hip with her fingertips, snickering when she flinched beneath the touch. She took her hand away, satisfied that she could still make the young Dragonborn squirm. "Made quite the spectacle last night, didn't we?"

"Again, that's none of your business."

"Oh certainly not – Divines forbid!" said Vex. "It wasn't what I'd have called private, though, given you were both shouting at each other across the Flagon at the tops of your lungs." She folded her arms, smirking. "If you need any advice…"

"And why would I want to come to you for advice, of all people?" asked Rella.

"Because I've had many a lover's tiff in my time," replied Vex. Rella didn't doubt it, though how she'd had relationships that lasted longer than one night, she didn't know. She was certainly an attractive woman, but her wicked tongue and unpleasant attitude was a significant deterrent. "And believe it or not, I do know a thing or two about romance and all that soppy nonsense." That, Rella did doubt.

"What a shame I missed out on that," she drawled sarcastically. "But how can you be so sure Serana and I are anything more than friends?"

"You didn't deny me calling you a leech-lover," the blonde answered. Her angular face took on a serious expression, and it was the rarity and unusualness of it that the Dovahkiin found most unsettling. "You look at her in the same way you used to look at Brynjolf," she said, somewhat thoughtfully.

For the first time in their exchange, Rella wasn't sure how to respond.

Vex turned and started to walk away, pausing to say, "The offer still stands, Dragonborn. Believe it or not, I do want to help you, sometimes."

And with that, she was gone.

* * *

Later on, still simmering from the argument she'd had with Serana the previous night, the Dovahkiin decided to relieve some of her tension by doing some target practice. The cistern's range was by no means as picturesque and tranquil as Angi's camp just southwest of Falkreath, but it would still do to serve her purpose.

Thinking of the welcoming woman's cabin again made her yearn to walk the Forgotten Vale again. She remembered the moment they reached the top of the cliff by the waterfall, cascading diamonds in the sunlight. She'd turned to look across the valley, and the vista had been so tremendous and breath-taking that she was overcome by a sudden and unexpected rush of emotion.

It was also the first time she'd realised her feelings for Serana. When she'd looked across to her and seen the way the sun caressed her skin and reflected in her eyes… she just knew. She wanted the woman standing next to her to remain by her side for as long as fate would allow it. She'd reached out to touch Serana's arm, but the vampire had instead taken her hand and simply smiled at her.

She lifted the bow without much protest from her shoulder, holding it aloft in her left hand; arm outstretched and locked in place. When she attempted to pull the string back with her right, the pain shot through her again. She grunted, dropping the bow in favour of clutching the half-healed wound. It clattered dully on the damp stone, and she almost felt like kicking it out of frustration.

How was she supposed to defend herself in combat? She preferred her right hand for wielding a blade, and she was slow and clumsy with her left. She doubted she'd be able to best a child in a swordfight, in her condition, let alone an armoured bandit with a mace or an axe.

She only truly felt comfortable with a bow in her hands and a quiver on her back. Truthfully, she only truly felt comfortable with Serana by her side.

"You'll be back in shape for that in no time, lass," Brynjolf said from behind her. She hadn't heard him approach, though it didn't surprise her. He was a master thief, after all.

"I hope so," Rella responded miserably.

"I know so," he said, putting an arm around her shoulders, and then adding, "But also perhaps when you've not been on the ale. I don't think I know anyone who can shoot straight when they've got a few of those in their bellies."

She managed a smile, leaning into him. "I've missed you, Bryn."

"Not as much as I've missed you, lass," he said, pulling her closer. "How are you feeling?"

She remembered he, along with the rest of the Thieves Guild, had all seen at least some of the argument between her and Serana. "Foolish," she replied. "I feel like everything's going wrong and it's all my fault."

He turned to face her, resting his hands on her collar. "You're far from foolish, lassie," he said. "Things happen, and we don't always know what the consequences are going to be. You shouldn't blame yourself for something you couldn't foresee. That's what mystics and fortune-tellers are for," he chuckled. "You have a smart and pretty head on those shoulders of yours. If anyone's going to come out fighting, it's you. If anyone's going to be able to sort things out, it's you."

In that moment, the way he looked upon her with his serene, jade gaze, she felt a sudden urge for closeness. Vex's words came to her mind and she wondered if she still beheld him in such a way; whether she still loved him in the way that she knew he loved her. She reached up, burying her fist in his hair and bringing his mouth to hers.

He tasted familiar, like earth and spices and mead, and she allowed herself to melt into him. One of his hands moved to rest on the small of her back, the other at the nape of her neck as he brought her even closer.

It was that subtle movement that caused her to catch hold of herself, then. She pulled away from him and disentangled her fingers from his coppery locks. "Sorry, I…"

His eyes twinkled playfully and his lips curved into a smile. He tilted his head to the side in a way that was reminiscent of a dog, and yet wholly endearing. Unfortunately, it was then that the Dovahkiin saw Serana standing in the doorway directly behind them. She didn't look upset or angry. In fact, she appeared decidedly indifferent.

Rella cursed the cistern chambers for not having any doors. She thought again of her conversation with Vex, and she'd just gone and proven the woman right. "Serana–" The vampire turned and walked away, and the Dragonborn pushed past Brynjolf and immediately gave chase. "Serana, wait. That wasn't what it looked like." She cursed herself, then, for such a ridiculous choice of words. What it was was exactly what it had looked like.

"It's of no concern to me," said Serana. Her voice was emotionless, mirroring her expression.

"Please, allow me to explain," Rella pleaded, following her briskly to the exit ladder. She briefly wondered how Serana had managed to get back into the Guild, considering the traps along the graveyard entrance, but realised she must have come all the way through the Ratway, instead.

"You don't need to," the vampire said coolly. "I have eyes. I saw."

"And what you saw was a mistake," said Rella, clambering the ladder after her, impeded by her shoulder once again. She grunted in pain as she hastily pulled herself up through the trapdoor.

"It doesn't matter what it was," Serana remarked coldly, her voice echoing down the tunnel. She was a fair distance ahead of the Dragonborn, having taken advantage of her slow ascent up the ladder. "It's none of my business."

"It wasn't what I wanted, I–"

Serana laughed derisively, yanking the chain underneath the sarcophagus. "You could have fooled me."

"Serana, please," she beseeched, grasping hold of the vampire's wrist. "Don't do this."

"Do what?" Serana wrenched her hand from the Dragonborn's grip. "_I_ didn't do anything. _I_ merely came to try and smooth things over with you after last night. _You_ on the other hand…" She turned away again, crossing the graveyard and climbing the stone walkway out onto the front of the Temple of Mara.

"Don't walk away," said Rella, running up the steps to catch up with her. She clutched her shoulder, wincing. "Come back!"

A young man standing at the bottom of the steps leading down from the temple blocked her path, causing her to lose sight of the vampire for a brief moment. "Serana!" she cried, making to move around him. He stepped in front of her a second time. "Get out of my way!" she snarled.

He smiled down at her in a way that made her skin crawl, silent. She tried again, but the same thing happened. He simply stood there dumbly, smiling.

"_Move,_" she rumbled, voice tinged with her Thu'um.

He did not move. His smile did not falter. She felt uneasy beneath his hollow stare and yet there wasn't anything particularly intimidating about him. He wore plain civilian clothing, bore no weapons; nothing about him indicated he was a threat. "I have a message for the Dragonborn," he said, thrusting a rolled up piece of parchment at her.

She looked down at it, tied with black ribbon. She lifted her head, "What–" she began, but he'd disappeared. Agitated, she glanced around hastily, straining to see him amid the throng of people wandering around the market. He was nowhere to be found.

A feeling of dread began to creep over her as she untied the knot. It grew even stronger when she unfurled the scroll.

_I know you're alive, _it said.

But it was the symbol drawn underneath that caused her blood to run cold.

She stared down at the parchment, suddenly unable to breathe. Her chest felt tight, and though she began to unbuckle the belts on the leathers, it didn't alleviate the pressure. She fell to her knees, gasping for air, gloved hands clawing desperately at the ground. Flashes of white and black flickered across her eyes each time she blinked.

She heard someone calling her name. They sounded faraway; an echo inside her mind. Her lungs burned.

She slumped forwards, succumbing to the darkness.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks again to everyone who's read, reviewed, favourited and followed this story. Your continued support and kind words keep me going.**

* * *

Cool, crisp air rushed into her throat when she awoke with a start, opening her eyes to find herself lying beneath a cloudless, pale sky. Mjoll and Aerin were kneeling on the ground next to her, the Lioness resting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Are you feeling okay, Dragonborn?" she asked in that charming accent of hers. They had never shared much in the way of conversation, but Rella had found a sword in the Dwemer ruin, Mzinchaleft, that once belonged to her. In return, she had offered up her arm should the Dovahkiin ever need assistance during her travels. "You blacked out."

Rella sat up quickly, learning Mjoll and Aerin weren't the only people there with her. A small crowd had gathered around her; some faces she recognised, others she did not, though all were peering at her curiously as though she were some fascinating artefact on display at a museum.

For a moment, when her eyes wandered over the people in the congregation, she thought she saw Serana standing towards the back, golden eyes glimmering beneath an ebony hood. When she blinked, she was gone. The Dragonborn concluded it was simply her mind playing cruel tricks on her.

"She looks a little sallow," she heard Aerin say quietly to Mjoll. "Perhaps we should take her to a healer."

Realising she hadn't yet answered the woman's question, Rella dismissed them, "I'm grateful for your concern, but I'll be fine." She began to stand, ignoring their inquiring stares.

When she was back on her feet, the Dovahkiin inhaled deeply, filling her lungs. Flexing her gloved fingers at her sides, she realised then that the piece of parchment she'd been holding was no longer in her hand. Casting searching glances to the ground around her, it was nowhere to be found. "In my hand, I had a letter," she said hesitantly, turning to Mjoll and raising her empty hand to illustrate her point. "It's gone."

Both she and Aerin frowned, looking upon her as if she were somewhat delirious. "There was no letter," said Mjoll. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

She was silent for a few moments, unable to fully comprehend what was happening. The parchment was gone. Even the black strand of ribbon it had been bound with had disappeared, too. Had she dreamt it? She could picture it clearly in her mind; each blemish of the vellum, each flourish of the handwriting, the chilling symbol beneath it. It was too distinct to have been a hallucination, but the letter's absence made her question her own judgement. She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling vulnerable beneath the ogles of her rapt audience. "I'm fine. Thank you – both of you," she said eventually, forcing a smile.

The Lioness patted her once, firmly on the arm – an acknowledgement from one warrior to another – and stepped through the assembly with Aerin following close behind. With her departure, they too began to disperse, perhaps realising that the Dragonborn wasn't going to sprout wings and fly; that her collapse was simply due to fatigue and not some strange manifestation of her power.

After the last bystanders had migrated back towards the market, Rella stood alone, longing for reassurance from the one person whose comfort she didn't deserve.

* * *

When she finally returned to the Flagon, she went to the bar, craving the warmth of whiskey to dull her senses. If she drank enough, it would help her forget, if only for a little while, that everything around her continued to go horribly wrong. Her only minor consolation was that the Dawnguard hadn't yet arrived in Riften, though it was only a matter of time before they did. Word of her presence in The Rift would reach the other holds sooner or later, and there was nothing in her power she could do to stop it. She just hoped that Serana would put aside their dispute for the sake of her safety; they only had just under a week's head start on them.

And then there was the letter. She didn't even want to think about it, so desperately wanting it to be a dream. She prayed with all of her heart that it was, because she couldn't bear to imagine what it might mean for her if it wasn't.

She recalled the man who had delivered it. Young, dark-haired, dressed plainly, unarmed. He must have just been a courier, because if he'd been an assassin… the thought made her feel sick. She'd be dead, if he was. Her mind had been too preoccupied with the argument and pursuing Serana that her guard had been lowered. Just one thrust of a blade in her heart was all it would have taken. He would have killed her.

Movement beside her brought her from her reverie, and she almost groaned aloud when she saw the all too familiar shock of flaxen hair and olive skin in her periphery.

"You've really outdone yourself this time, Dragonborn," said Vex, taking up the stool next to her. "Two spats in the space of one day. Not even you and I argue _that_ much."

"Because I make a point of avoiding you like Rockjoint."

Vex sighed theatrically, pouting. "Once upon a time, you used to enjoy my company." She leant in closer, her breath tickling Rella's ear. "Sometimes a little… too much."

"And it would seem you _still_ enjoy mine a little too much," Rella retorted.

"Your tongue is almost as sharp as mine, these days," the blonde purred, her lips grazing the Dragonborn's earlobe as she spoke. When Rella shivered, she grinned gleefully and trailed her fingertips along her forearm to tease her even more. "I must say, I'm impressed."

"As you should be," said Rella, itching to move her arm away, but determined to show Vex she wasn't so easily flustered by her touch.

The Imperial stopped stroking her arm, quirking an eyebrow. The young Nord almost missed the feeling. Almost. "Arrogance doesn't suit you, Dragonborn," she said, smirking. "Leave that to me." She took her hand away, gesturing for Vekel to pour her a drink. "What were the two of you fighting about this time? Who is the prettier? Whose outfit looks the best?"

"It's none of your business."

"Oh, see now, that's where you're wrong," said Vex, tapping her nails rhythmically on the wooden counter. "As a senior member, it becomes my business when you disrupt the harmony of the Guild. The atmosphere becomes awfully unpleasant when you upset the Guild Master."

"If you knew all along, why bother asking?" asked Rella, scowling at her.

"Why bother indeed…" she drawled. There was a vacant look in her eye for the briefest of moments, but it was gone again just as quickly as it had appeared. "Torn between two lovers…" she mused aloud. "It's like something out of a soppy romance novel." She made a noise of faint distaste, lacing her fingers around the pewter shell of the tankard in front of her. "But which do you choose? The thief, or the vampire… the one you know loves you, or the one you don't…"

In Rella's heart, there wasn't any contest.

"Weren't you supposed to be sorting out the Guild's finances or something?" the Nord questioned impatiently.

"_Supposed_ to be, yes," replied Vex. "But Delvin decided his number skills were better than mine. That oaf. So here I am instead… spending quality time with my _favourite_ Dragonborn."

Rella raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm the only Dragonborn you know," she pointed out. It was a recurring and sobering thought, and one she sorely wished wasn't true.

Vex sipped her ale slowly. "And if you weren't, you probably wouldn't be my favourite."

Rella rolled her eyes. "Not that I'd want to be."

The blonde reached over, sweeping a hand delicately along the length of Rella's thigh. The Dovahkiin's responding shudder was barely perceptible, but it was there. "Oh, I think you would…"

Rella swallowed, grabbing Vex's hand before it ventured too far south. She was already overstepping what was deemed appropriate for a public place and the Dragonborn didn't dare let her go any further lest she cease to object. She removed it from her leg, pushed it away and ignored the Imperial's sly grin. "You are…"

"Charming? Irresistible?" The blonde's hazel eyes twinkled with mirth. She knew exactly how to rile the younger Nord and she was relishing every second of it.

"Vexing…" Rella breathed.

The Imperial swilled the remainder of her drink and began to stand. "How do you think I got this name?" She started walking away, hips swaying in a dimly hypnotic fashion. "Until next time, Dragonborn!" she called over her shoulder.

* * *

When Brynjolf's gaze met hers from across the cistern, it was so full of warmth and understanding that it caused her heart to squeeze painfully in her chest. That kindness would soon be turned to sorrow when he heard what she had to say to him. The truth wasn't always easy to hear, but she owed it to him. He stood behind the Guild Master's desk, flanked by Delvin, who flicked aimlessly through a splayed-out business ledger. He patted his fellow thief lightly on the shoulder, saying something to him that Rella assumed was the equivalent of 'excuse me, for a moment', and made his way over to her.

They met at the centre, her fellow Nightingale standing tall, broad, and benevolent before her. She knew, just from the way that he was looking down upon her, that he didn't blame her for anything, and neither did he expect anything from her. For that, she was eternally grateful and felt so incredibly guilty for it. He was forgiving her far too easily. Even though she couldn't see it in his face, she had hurt him for the second time. She didn't deserve his forgiveness, nor his fondness. "You already know what I'm going to say, don't you?" she asked meekly.

He smiled, nodding slowly. "I know," he said, inhaling deeply and scraping his chestnut hair back from his face, "And you don't need to worry about it, lass. It was good while it lasted… again," he chuckled weakly before his face took on a serious expression, though none of the affection left his eyes. "I know how much she means to you - it's clear as day. I've seen the way you look at her." He took her hand in his, stroking her knuckles with a rough, yet soothing thumb. "I hope she comes to her senses soon, because she's lucky to have you and she'd be a fool to let you go. But no matter what happens, Rella, I'll always be here for you. This Guild is your home, and we're your family. We look after our own."

She was silent, unable to find any words sufficient enough to express what she wished to say to him. In spite of how much she absolutely adored him, it would never be enough. The love she held for him in her heart just wasn't the same as that which he held for her. But he understood that, he had accepted it, and didn't bear a single ounce of hatred towards her for it. All she could do was step forwards and hug him fiercely. In return, he enfolded her into his strong arms and kissed the top of her head.

"It'll all be alright, lass," he said when they separated. "You'll see."

She nodded uncertainly. "I hope so."

"I know so," he said, winking at her.

She watched him walk back to the other side of the chamber, a small, sad smile touching her lips. When he became fully absorbed in conversation with Delvin again, she returned to her room.

She perched on the edge of her bed, her back to the doorway. Her hand absently traced the creases in the quilt, her mind occupied by the swirls and the wrinkles of the fabric, temporarily distracted from Serana, from the illusory letter, from the Dawnguard, from her duties as a Dragonborn.

It wasn't long before footsteps approached and stopped in the archway entrance to her chamber. Based on the lightness of them, she assumed it was Vex come to gloat or pester her incessantly again, as was her wont at every available opportunity. "What do you want?" she asked bluntly, not particularly in the mood to exchange pleasantries with the blonde thief.

"I came to see how you were." It was Serana. Rella's heart skipped in her chest, so sharply that she had to suppress a gasp. "The Dragonborn collapses and it's all anyone can talk about."

She wanted so much to apologise to her again, to tell her how much she needed her, how safe and grounded she felt with her, but the vampire's deprecating tone made it exceedingly difficult. The Dragonborn's pride wouldn't allow her to abide it. "You say that like I did it on purpose," said Rella, rising from the bed and turning to face her.

"Did you?" Serana asked, somewhat accusingly.

"I'm not so desperate for your attention that I'd feign an affliction," Rella responded coolly, somewhat insulted the undead Nord would even consider it. "So no, I didn't."

"Then what happened?"

"I don't know," Rella replied. "One moment, I was running after you, and the next, I was lying on the ground." She rubbed the back of her neck, letting her gaze drop to the murky floor. "My shoulder was hurting and I was tired. Perhaps it all just got the better of me." It wasn't a complete lie, but neither was it the complete truth. Though she didn't have the note in her possession and couldn't prove its existence, she knew in her heart it had been real. The symbol was ingrained in her mind; a dark reminder that her past was slowly catching up to her before she'd had a chance to confront it on her own terms. "I didn't sleep well last night."

"Guilt eating away at you, was it?" Serana sniped.

Rella narrowed her eyes at the older Nord, exhaling crossly. Glittering emerald glared into glistering gold as she spoke, "Did you come here to see how I was, or to make snide remarks? Because if it's the latter, I'd rather you kept them to yourself."

The vampire's facial expression was neutral, but her gaze remained as defiant as the Dragonborn's. "I can see that you're perfectly fine."

"No thanks to you," Rella muttered under her breath.

Of course, Serana heard. "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing," said Rella, pinching the bridge of her nose. Already their conversation had dissolved into an argument and she really didn't have the energy for it. She turned away, unable to bear the undead Nord's scrutiny any longer. "Nothing. Forget it. Just… please, leave me alone, Serana. I don't want to do this right now. I _can't_ do this right now."

"Fine," Serana said resentfully.

Rella repeated it to the empty room, "Fine."

Sinking down onto the bed, she rested her head in her hands. Her heart ached for the vampire's company, for things to return to normal. She wanted to tell her how frightened she was, how the weight of the world resting on her shoulders threatened to destroy her. She wanted to tell her that ever since she'd opened that tomb in Dimhollow Crypt, she hadn't felt so hopelessly alone in the world. That her burden no longer felt so excruciatingly overwhelming; that being by her side gave her the courage and instilled the belief in herself that she could stop Alduin.

But things couldn't return to normal. Ever since the incident in that Nord ruin, everything had changed. The Dawnguard, the people that she'd once considered her friends, a faction with a purpose that she once identified with, were hunting them down. She feared the day they would meet again, because it was one bound to end in bloodshed. She'd inadvertently endangered both herself and Serana, and all because she had let her heart rule over her head. Now, Serana would forever be drawn to the life flowing through her veins, suffering and battling against the voracious part of herself that could never truly be controlled.

She didn't know when the tears had started to spill down her cheeks, but she made no attempt to stop them. Instead, she lay down in the middle of the bed, hugging her knees to her chest.

Sleep claimed her soon after.

* * *

She was in a cave. Quite how she'd come to be there, she wasn't entirely sure. Its sides, moist with condensation, glistened in the light of the sconce next to her. Had she always been standing, or had she been sleeping? There weren't any bedrolls scattered around, nor anything that would indicate anyone had set up camp there.

She realised then that she wasn't carrying any weapons. She wasn't wearing any armour, either, which made her wonder what in Talos's name she was thinking by running into a cave without bringing anything to defend herself with. Certainly she had her Thu'um, but the drain on her energy meant that she couldn't use her Dragon Shouts in quick succession. It would give her enough time to flee, at least, she supposed. Regardless, the place could be filled with trolls, bandits, skeletons… all things dangerous and all things deadly without the right protection. Had she consumed so much alcohol that she'd no longer been capable of forming coherent thought? Had someone sedated her and brought her there unarmed in some twisted test of her strength and skill?

It was then that the sound of chanting floated steadily towards her. It was too faint to for her to discern any of the words, but just by the dark rasp and cadence of it, she could sense it was evil. She knew she ought to turn and walk away from it, yet she found herself enraptured; drawn to the malignant melody that grew louder with every step she took in its direction.

Deeper and deeper she went, the darkness swaddling her like a blanket, void of any warmth or comfort. Guided only by the voices, she continued blindly onwards until a dim orange glow gently touched her eyes. She was close, now.

The tunnel suddenly opened out – though how vast it had become she couldn't tell – and the sinister psalm rose up, reverberating within the very depths of her soul. So distracted by its intensity, she very nearly walked forwards and off the ledge, catching herself at the last moment. Dropping down to her knees, she crawled silently to the edge and peered over.

They stood in a circle, each body shrouded in robes as black as the night, each face obscured with a voluminous hood. The flames from the braziers either side of the throne at the north of the cavern caused shadows to flicker and leap across its jagged walls, turning them into looming, fearsome giants. She kept her body flat to the ground, so that should one of them happen to glance up, they would not see her.

The chant stopped abruptly, and upon seeing movement in her periphery realised it marked the entrance of another into the chamber. Blood-red trimmings on his gown distinguished him as superior to the others; a leader, perhaps. Behind him, a woman in rags, tethered to him by rope around her neck. She looked vaguely familiar, though Rella couldn't think where she might have seen her before.

Two of his disciples grasped hold of her and bundled her into the throne. There was no struggle from her, no cry of distress – a distinct apathy to her treatment that was most disturbing.

When he approached her, blue light began to emanate from his fingertips. Whatever he was going to do, the Dragonborn knew it was something unpleasant. The fact that she was weaponless didn't even cross her mind as she charged down the path that descended steadily from her observation point on the ridge, intent on stopping him.

She shouted, the invisible and relentless force sending the followers sprawling on the ground with cries of surprise and discomfort. She lunged for their superior, fist raised and ready to strike, but before she could reach him, he conjured a ward to shield himself from the blow. She ricocheted off its translucent surface, staggering backwards. "Run!" she shouted at her, but the woman simply sat there, unresponsive.

Arms grabbed her from behind; too many from which she was able to escape, forcing her to her knees. She fought against them to no avail.

"A Dragonborn," the leader said, a callous laugh ringing throughout the grotto. "This is a most interesting development. And such blatant disregard for your own wellbeing to come here unprotected."

"Who are you?" Rella demanded. "What do you want with her?"

"You should know who we are," he replied simply. She couldn't see his face, but she knew the smile in his voice was one of malice. "She will be mine to command." He turned back to the captive woman, still slumped insensibly in the throne. He pressed his hand to her forehead and she became engulfed in a cerulean glow. She gasped, her eyes rolling back into her head, body jerking violently in response to his touch.

"Get away from her!" Rella yelled, trying to break free from the numerous hands holding her in place, but it was futile. She could only watch helplessly as he pervaded her with dark magic.

When the light dissipated, he stood back and said, "You are mine to command. Do exactly as I ask and you shall be greatly rewarded."

"Yes, master."

He stabbed a finger at the Dragonborn. "Kill her."

"Yes, master."

"No!" Rella screamed, writhing and thrashing against her captors, desperately trying to break free as the woman rose from the throne. She tried to summon her Thu'um, but the power would not come to her. She was completely defenceless against her; against all of them.

"It's time to wake up," the woman said, wrapping her hands around her throat.

* * *

She awoke suddenly, lurching up and drawing in juddering, gasping breaths. Beads of sweat trickled down her temples and she seized at the sheets that swathed her, clutching handfuls of fabric as if to anchor herself there.

"Rella."

A cool hand touched her arm. She turned slowly, tremblingly, to meet gleaming honey eyes.

She glanced down to where the vampire's fingers were still resting on her bare skin. Serana started to take her hand away, but Rella caught it in one of her own.

"You were having a bad dream," the vampire said. There was no trace of anger in her voice; no hint of sadness on her face. There was only concern and kindness that the younger Nord knew she didn't deserve.

It took a moment for the words to settle, but when they did, Rella felt her throat tighten. She nodded quickly, clamping her eyes shut to ward off both the tears and the memories of the nightmare.

Serana shifted on the bed, sliding an arm around her middle and gently drawing her into an embrace. The Dovahkiin buried her face in the crook of her neck, clinging to her; afraid she might disappear at any moment. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I know," Serana said softly. "So am I."

Rella could feel the tension in the vampire's body; didn't dare imagine how much pain she must have been in, how agonising it was to be so physically close to her. She hated herself for it. The selfish part of her never wanted to let go, but she knew she must for Serana's benefit.

The older Nord seemed somewhat reluctant when she pulled away. Whether that was as a result of the bloodlust or of something else entirely, the Dovahkiin wasn't sure. She secretly hoped for the latter. "No," she said, shaking her head. "You shouldn't be."

Serana's smile was small, tender. "We can argue about it tomorrow," she said lightly, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of Rella's hair behind her ear. "You should go back to sleep."

The Dragonborn clasped hold of her wrist as she started to stand. "Will you… will you stay?" she asked tentatively.

Panic and uncertainty flashed across Serana's face. "I don't…"

"It doesn't matter," Rella said quickly, quietly. She looked down into her lap. "I shouldn't have—"

Serana's gilded gaze was resolute as she took the Dragonborn's hand. "No," she said. "I'll stay."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Sorry it's taken me a while to upload this. I've been busy with exams the past few weeks, and I had a bit of that beastly writer's block when they finished so it took me longer than anticipated to finish this chapter. Anyway, thanks again for those of you still reading, to those who have followed and favourited, and a double thanks to those who have reviewed. I really love hearing your thoughts and feedback. **

* * *

The faint sound of running water washed steadily over her, softly lapping at the edges of her consciousness and coaxing her awake. Faint voices echoed into the chamber, words indistinct, blending together to form a gentle opus that gradually brought her into awareness. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, her slumber had been peaceful and dreamless. Content and relaxed, she had drifted to sleep with Serana watching over her, fingers gliding soothingly through her hair.

Propping herself up on her elbows, her gaze wandered to where the vampire was sitting in the corner of the room, a tattered book open across her lap. The glow from the sconce bathed her skin in a warm, amber hue and turned the ebony locks that fell around her face a deep chocolate. She hadn't seemed to notice the Dragonborn stirring, her eyes trained on the dappled pages blanketing her knees. Occasionally her brow would furrow slightly, lips pursing as she came to a passage that was perhaps written in such a way that made it particularly troublesome to comprehend. A pale hand would dart out and turn the leaf with effortless grace, a slender finger tracing the subtle creases in the paper.

Rella smiled, deciding she could simply watch the vampire for hours on end, observing every little nuance of her body and committing every wonderful aspect of her to memory. Words danced on her tongue, eager to be unleashed. A tiny compliment that held so much more meaning, an honesty she couldn't quite bring herself to confess. She wasn't ready. Not yet.

As if sensing her hesitation, Serana took this moment to look up from the tome. Her mouth curved slowly, lazily, as she spoke, "You're awake."

Despite the obviousness of the statement, Rella nodded. She pushed herself up into a sitting position with only a small protest from her shoulder, resting her back against the headboard of the bed. "You're still here." It wasn't said scathingly – in surprise, in relief, if anything. Truthfully, she hadn't expected Serana to remain there all night.

"I said I'd stay, didn't I?" The vampire's tone was vaguely demeaning.

"I know, I…" Rella stumbled, dipping her head.

Closing the volume, Serana moved to perch on the edge of the bed. "You didn't think I'd be here when you woke up, did you?"

"No," the Dragonborn quietly agreed. "And I didn't deserve you to be."

"Yet here I am."

Rella looked up at her, jaw clenched, determined not to let the tears fill her eyes. She longed for the vampire's embrace again; to feel supple, strong arms holding her, keeping her from falling apart. "I'm sorry," she said, unable to keep a slight tremor from entering her voice. She wanted to continue, to tell her all of the things she was sorry for; all of the things she regretted, but couldn't for fear that she'd start crying. She didn't want to, didn't feel like she was worthy of weeping when she was the cause of so much grief in the undead Nord sitting across from her.

"I know," said Serana, eyes twinkling. "So am I."

Rella shook her head sadly, failing to appreciate the vampire's attempt at light-heartedness by copying the sequence of their previous conversation. Drawing in a deep breath and swallowing the lump in her throat, she spoke again. "No, Serana. I'm being serious. For everything."

"Everything encompasses a lot of things," she said calmly. "Everything implies you're sorry for all that's happened since we met; ever since you freed me from that tomb and helped me to stop my father from trying to take over the world."

The Dragonborn's expression hardened, her gaze sombre and holding the vampire at its rare and intense mercy. "Finding you inside that tomb was the best thing that ever happened to me."

_Rella yanked her arrows from Lokil's body, wiping the bloodied tips on his robes before returning them to the quiver on her back. His thrall lay a few feet further across the bridge, reduced to nothing more than a tidy pile of off-white ashes. Slumped awkwardly over the balustrade was another fallen vampire, and after the Dragonborn had pulled the shaft from its heart, she kicked it unceremoniously into the water below. _

_She sheathed her bow and continued across the walkway, over to the large arched platform. In the heart of the court was a small column, atop it sitting a button ringed in red. Circular channels spanned outwards from its centre, with unlit braziers situated at various spots in the shape. She studied it cautiously for a few minutes, her instincts telling her that pressing it probably wasn't a very good idea. But she knew that if she wanted to fulfil Isran's request and help the Dawnguard, she would have to. The vampires were there for a reason, and this mysterious switch must have had something to do with it. _

_When she placed her hand over it, a spike shot up through her palm. She cried out, knees buckling in a mixture of shock and pain as ethereal, purple flames burst up from the ground to surround her. The barb withdrew itself and she grunted, fumbling in her pack for a healing potion. She gulped it down, tying a crude piece of fabric torn from her underclothing around the wound. "A trap," she muttered bitterly, lurching to her feet. "It's never simple."_

_As she moved towards the fire, she realised she felt no heat radiating from it. To test its threat, she tossed an arrow through. It rattled on the other side, seemingly undamaged. Whether it would be the same for her flesh, she didn't know. There was only one way to find out. _

_Holding her hand out, she slowly edged her fingertips closer and closer to the otherworldly conflagrations. When she touched it, she didn't feel any discomfort; only a strange, slight chill. She stepped through, thanking Talos that it wasn't harmful, for she definitely wouldn't have been able to jump over it. The thought of being trapped inside that place wasn't exactly appealing, either. _

_Surveying the area, she resolved that the braziers would need to be aligned in a certain pattern to unlock whatever secret the crypt was hiding. She expected pushing them around would be hard work, but to her pleasant surprise all it took was a small shove and they slid smoothly along the grooves in floor. When they flared in a blaze of lilac, she knew she was on the right track. _

_Eventually, once all the torches were arranged correctly, the fire spread across the ruts, almost engulfing her. She suppressed a shiver, approaching the central pillar again. Cradling her throbbing hand and cursing the ancient ruins of Skyrim for their complex and often painful-to-solve puzzles, she swayed slightly as the ground beneath her shook and started to open up in a flash of violet light. _

_A stone monolith rose to meet her, dark and looming. Whatever the vampires were searching for must have been inside. Examining it for any small traps and finding none, she reached out to touch it. The front panel began to descend and she snatched her hand away quickly, stifling a startled yelp. Inside was…_

_ "A woman?" Rella queried under her breath, scarcely able to believe her eyes. _

_Dark hair framed a pale face, angular, though not so severe that it made her unattractive. Hands were crossed delicately over her chest, as one might position the deceased in a grave. Was she dead? She certainly looked it, but couldn't have been for long because her body hadn't yet begun to decay. This was no ordinary tomb, either; she must have been someone of high esteem, or perhaps there was something in the monument with her that someone didn't want found. Poor woman, the Dragonborn thought, her cadaver being used as a disguise like this. _

_All of a sudden, she toppled forwards. Rella squealed and leapt backwards, her gaze drawn to the rather grand scroll that was strapped to her back. The Dovahkiin promptly abandoned her curiosity, though, when she heard a groan and became aware she was moving. "What the…" _

_The woman stood up unsteadily, eyes the colour of the sun burning into her. "Where is… who sent you here?" Her voice was melodious, edged with a velvety rasp that the Dragonborn, in spite of her unease, couldn't help but find decidedly lovely._

_ "A man named Isran," replied Rella, hastily assessing whether she was a danger. She didn't look particularly menacing, but the intensity of her stare and the Elven dagger hanging from her belt might indicate otherwise. And then there was that scroll…_

_ "I… don't know who that is," she said. "Is he… like me?" _

_ Rella raised an eyebrow, an uncomfortable feeling stirring in the pit of her stomach. "'Like you'?" _

_ "Yes, a… can't you tell from just looking at me?" the woman questioned. _

_ Rella blinked, thrown by the question. The pale skin, the golden eyes… _

_And then it hit her. She was…_

"_A vampire," the Dragonborn fathomed aloud. In one swift motion, she drew the blade at her thigh and lunged for the woman, grabbing her shoulder and forcing it roughly against her throat. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't kill you right here," she growled, faintly irritated that such beauty was held by a monster. _

_ She didn't seem at all afraid, ochre orbs defiant. "Because you'll die with me." _

_ Rella felt something sharp jab into her stomach. She glanced down to see the knife pressing against her abdomen; not hard enough to cause damage but to serve as a clear warning. "Damn," she muttered. In her haste, she had been too careless. Brynjolf would be disappointed if he could see her, now. _

_ "Look," the vampire said, capturing the Dragonborn's attention again. She didn't remove the dagger, but neither did Rella remove hers from her neck. "Kill me, you've killed one vampire. But if people are after me, there's something bigger going on." Now, she did take the blade away, raising it to the Dovahkiin's eye-level, making a point of letting it slide from her grip and clatter to the ground, the sound deafening against the near-silence of the chamber. "I can help you find out what it is." _

_Rella narrowed her eyes at her. As much as it pained her to admit it, she was right. The ones she'd killed before hadn't been scouring that catacomb just for fun. They were after something specific –something she probably wouldn't be able to discover on her own. Still, a vampire was a vampire and they weren't to be trusted, regardless of whether or not they deliberately disarmed themselves. "Why should I believe you?" she challenged, not taking her knife away completely, but slightly easing some of the pressure off. _

_ "You shouldn't," she replied softly. "But deep down… you do." _

_The Dragonborn slowly lowered her dagger, regarding the woman carefully. She wanted to despise her – should despise her – yet found she couldn't seem to muster the hatred inside herself. She quashed the urge to snarl in frustration. "Are you bewitching me?" _

_ The vampire smirked in a way that made Rella's heart flutter inside her chest. "I don't know… am I?" _

_ The Dragonborn scowled at her. It was all so wrong. She wasn't supposed to be feeling this way. She should have been driving that dagger into her chest and watching the life trickle away from her – a thought that a mere few minutes ago she would have found gratifying she now found vaguely unpleasant. "Do you have a name?" _

_ "Serana," she said. "Good to meet you." _

_ Rella wasn't sure she could say the same, but nodded nonetheless. "Rella." _

"Do you really mean that?" Serana's voice brought her from the memory, looking at her with a combination of scepticism and hopefulness.

Rella leant forwards, grasping hold of the vampire's hand, unable to determine whether the tremble belonged to her or to Serana. "Of course I do." Her eyes were pleading with her to understand the words that remained unspoken.

Serana's gaze fell to their entwined fingers, her thumb gently stroking the Dragonborn's knuckle. "I… don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," said Rella, giving her hand a squeeze. "I just... I just wanted you to know."

Serana lifted her head and smiled sadly. "I do. I need to apologise for the way I've been behaving, lately. You were only trying to protect me by bringing me here, and it wasn't my place to judge you."

"I understand why you did. But it doesn't matter, now. What's done is done."

"You asked me why I stayed," said Serana, her voice steady, resolute. "I stayed because… because I can't imagine going out and living a life somewhere that you aren't a part of." She drew in a long, deep breath before continuing. "But I don't want to hurt you."

Rella shifted on the bed, moving closer to her. "The only way you could hurt me is if you left and never came back."

The vampire sighed miserably, dipping her gaze again. "By doing that, I thought I was protecting you. I thought it would make things better for the both of us."

"I know you did."

"I was wrong," she said.

"I know you were."

Serana's head shot up, the corners of her mouth quirking when she saw the mischievous glint in the Dragonborn's eyes. Her amusement swiftly faded, though, replaced by sincerity, "I'm sorry," she said, and to Rella's surprise, the vampire threw her arms around her shoulders, hugging her tightly.

"So am I," the Dovahkiin murmured into her neck. Her lips inadvertently grazed Serana's skin as she spoke, causing the undead Nord to shiver and abruptly withdraw from the embrace. "Sorry, I —"

"It's alright," Serana interjected quickly, the disquiet that was clear on her face soon dispelled by a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "The nightmare you had… what was it about?"

The Dragonborn knew the offhanded question was an obvious attempt to overcome the sudden unease, but didn't dare do or say anything other than answer the question for fear of unnerving her even more. "It was…" She trailed off, absently touching her throat where the ghost of the woman's fingertips had been constricting her airway. "Nothing," she finished. She didn't want to burden the vampire with the knowledge that the Dawnguard might not be the only problem they faced. Not until she definitely knew what she was dealing with, at least. Though the letter was gone, the symbol it bore had not vanished from her mind.

"It didn't seem like nothing," Serana countered, frowning slightly. "You were panicking and shouting in your sleep. It seemed… serious."

"It was just a silly dream," said Rella. "I was… fighting a big, scary dragon. That's all."

The vampire didn't look convinced, observing the Dragonborn suspiciously. "If you say so." She didn't sound it, either. Eventually, she shrugged simply and stifled a yawn, rubbing the centre of her forehead.

"Did you sleep?" the younger Nord asked.

Serana shook her head, fiddling absentmindedly with the hem of her robes. "I wanted to stay awake in case you had another bad dream." She paused, briefly nibbling her bottom lip. "Sometimes it's worse to wake up alone and afraid."

Rella took hold of her hand again, not wishing to pry but knowing there was more to that statement than the vampire had let on. "Thank you," she said, smiling gently. It was up to Serana to elaborate on the subject in her own time. She wouldn't force the issue, especially not if it held some uncomfortable memories for her. Swinging her legs over the edge of the mattress and standing up, she added, "You ought to rest." She nodded to the now empty bed, adding, "You can sleep there, if you want to. I guarantee it's comfier than those at the Bee and Barb. But don't tell Keerava I said that, will you?"

Serana nodded, although that same look of apprehension as the previous night flickered across her face for a brief moment. "Thank you."

"I'll be in the Ragged Flagon if you need me," said Rella. "Unless you want me to sta—"

"No," Serana said quickly. Too quickly, perhaps, but the Dragonborn understood her trepidation. She wouldn't push her to give more than she was ready to. She would wait for as long as it took to find out what it was that was steadily blossoming between them. "No, you go. I'll be fine."

The Flagon was mostly empty when the Dovahkiin arrived there, given the premature hour at which she had awoken. Vekel casually swept the cobbled floor next to the bar, Dirge stood on the veranda looking out across the pool, and Tonilia sat at a table adjacent to him, quill in hand and blank parchment and ink set out in front of her. The rest of the Guild, save for a few stragglers roaming the cistern, slept as the world continued on without them. She seated herself at her own table, nearest to the shadowy corner, requesting a sweetroll and a jug of milk. It was far too early in the day for alcoholic beverages and savoury foods.

She experimented with the movement of her shoulder while she waited, rolling it slowly in its socket. The wound didn't twinge with as much pain as she had grown accustomed to, and she concluded she could probably try to use her bow again. At the very least, it wouldn't be as great a hindrance to her if she desperately needed to defend herself from an attacker.

After a few minutes, Vekel set down her food and drink on the table and she dropped a handful of gold coins into his palm. As she ate, she thought of the Greybeards, and how she would have to return to them, soon. At Sky Haven Temple, Esbern had spoken of a Dragon shout that could be used to defeat Alduin – one that only the Greybeards would have knowledge of. What sort of shout it might be, she didn't know, but she supposed it certainly must be formidable to take down the World-Eater. She often wondered at the power she possessed, but to be able to defeat a dragon with a single shout alone? That was something else entirely. It frightened her, sometimes, to imagine what destruction she could be capable of. If she so desired, and had a warped, megalomaniacal state of mind, she could potentially take Skyrim, or at least some of it, for herself. Ulfric Stormcloak had managed to kill the High King with a single shout, and he wasn't even a Dragonborn.

"Rella."

The Dragonborn looked up from her drink to see Vex striding purposefully towards her from the cistern, her hips missing their usual sultry swing. That, as well as the lack of a sarcastic and teasing greeting immediately made her wonder if there was something wrong. "Do you need something?"

"There's word that some Dawnguard soldiers are coming to conduct a search of the city," said Vex, bracing her arms on the back of the chair opposite her. Worry was etched across her face, unsettling the Dragonborn even more than her words.

"When?" asked Rella, rising from her seat. It had only been a matter of time. She cursed herself for getting so agitated by the letter; if she hadn't fainted in the middle of the city and made such a spectacle out of it, no one would have batted an eyelid. They would have had more time.

"They're due to arrive tonight," replied Vex. "You need to leave."

"Thank you for the warning," she said, reaching out to touch the blonde's arm to illustrate her gratitude. Although it was an unusually friendly gesture, it was one that the Dragonborn felt the Imperial deserved. After all, she had kept up her end of the deal by keeping Serana's vampirism a secret. She dreaded to think what Brynjolf would say if he were to find out that the Guild was not only harbouring wanted fugitives, but a vampire, as well. "I need to say goodbye to Bryn."

Vex nodded, her expression abnormally sober. "Don't dawdle, Dragonborn."

* * *

Rella spotted Brynjolf at his usual post, poring over some schematics for a prospective job. He sensed her approach, throwing her a wink and a wolfish grin as she neared the desk.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She smiled glumly, deciding there was no point in beating around the bush, so launched straight into it. "I have to leave," she said, scratching the nape of her neck despite the absence of an itch.

"Already?" he questioned. "You've only been back a few days. Stay for a little bit longer, at least! Delvin is – Gods only know why – putting on a poetry performance… thing, in a few minutes. A bit of breakfast entertainment, no? I persuaded everyone to go and watch; show the big guy some support. It's a good excuse to get some mead in your belly, if nothing else."

"As tempting as that sounds, I have Dragonborn duties to attend to," she said morosely.

"Aye, of course. Saving the world from that dragon and whatnot," he chuckled. "You know, I spend so long down here that sometimes, I just forget about all that malarkey. Thank the Nine this place is underground, eh. Dragon-proof!"

"Next time, I promise I'll stay for longer."

"You better had, lass," he told her teasingly, moving around the counter to fold her in his arms. "You know how much I miss you when you're gone."

"I know, Bryn," she said, sighing into his chest. "I miss you, too."

"Are you absolutely sure you don't want to come?" he asked, planting a quick kiss on the top of her head before letting go of her.

She shook her head. "I should get moving." She stepped up on the balls of her feet to press her lips to his stubbly cheek. "I'll see you soon, Bryn. I'll write, when I get the chance."

"Wherever your journey takes you, lassie – good luck," he said, his mossy gaze somewhat woeful. "But I'm sure you won't need it." He patted her shoulder briskly, and started across the cistern, following the other members as they trickled through the passageway into the Ragged Flagon.

Rella watched him go, a swell of adulation in her chest for the man who had saved her life and given her the world.

After a few minutes, hearing the first sounds of laughter and cheers waft into the cistern, she made her way back to her chamber. High Hrothgar would have to be their next destination. She had dilly-dallied and shilly-shallied for far too long, and every day Alduin was resurrecting more and more dragons that were wreaking havoc on Skyrim's people. She needed to learn that shout from them, and she needed to do it soon. Delphine and Esbern were probably wondering what on Tamriel she was doing. They had expected her to convene with the Greybeards weeks ago, and yet here she had been, venturing into Nord ruins and idling about like a fool, fleeing from vampire hunters who now wanted her head. The blood of the people would be on her hands for as long as she ceased to act.

When she entered her chamber, Serana was lying on the bed, unmoving. At first, Rella thought she was sleeping, but her eyes were open, staring blankly up at the ceiling. "Serana?"

When she didn't move or form any kind of response, the Dovahkiin dashed to her side. "Serana, what's wrong?" she asked worriedly, panic rising within her when she gripped rigid limbs.

The vampire's eyes moved to look at her, but her face, her body, remained completely still, as if frozen in time. Her gaze fell to a gash across the undead Nord's forearm, where blood oozed steadily from the wound. It didn't look deep, but it was the trace of murky grey residue around the edges of the incision that frightened her more than anything.

Serana had been paralysed.

"Gods," she breathed, touching her cool cheek. The Dragonborn didn't know what to do. She hadn't the alchemy skill to try and make an antidote and didn't possess the magic capable of reversing the poison's effect. The vampire's irises were now darting wildly up and down in her obvious distress and she could feel her own anxiety beginning to rapidly increase. "I'll go and get help," she said.

Then, something struck her in the head from behind. She felt a surge of pain erupt across the back of her skull before falling unconscious.

* * *

A face, blurred as she came to, hovered before her. The throbbing at the back of her head caused her to groan in pain, and when she tried to move she found her arms were trapped at her sides. Cool air nipped at the skin left bare by her tunic, a light breeze whispering through her loose, chestnut hair, incapable of calming her.

"Hello, Dragonborn."

She recognised the voice, the olive skin, flaxen hair. Fingertips stroked her cheek; an action that might have been gentle and comforting had it not been for the rough nails lightly and intermittently scratching at her skin. As her vision became clearer, so did the woman's sharp features. Hazel eyes bored into her, lit up by a malicious smirk occupying thin lips.

It was close to sunset. The shadows were creeping over the skies, turning them to a dusky purple, and a dusting of stars winked at her from above, offering her no such comfort. They were in some sort of clearing, far away from Riften and any other human-inhabited place, she assumed. Somewhere no one would be able to hear her if she tried to call for help.

"Vex?" Rella attempted to free her arms again, glancing down to realise they were bound with a length of rope. She became aware that she was pressed up against someone else, back-to-back, and the cord stretched around both, tethering them together. She twisted her neck to see jet-black tresses veiling milky skin, her heart plummeting. "Serana?" She nudged her, but the vampire remained unresponsive. "What's going on?" she demanded, glaring at Vex.

"I sent a little message to your friends at Fort Dawnguard," the blonde replied coolly. "I'm sure you can figure out the rest."

"What, I—" Anger started to bubble in the pit of her stomach. "Why are you doing this? I thought I could trust you!" she snarled.

"Sorry, Dragonborn," said Vex, standing over her, arms folded across her chest. "The gold those Dawnguard pups were offering was just _too_ tempting."

"I'll kill you," the Dovahkiin growled. She tried to summon her Thu'um, but couldn't muster the power capable of causing the Imperial any harm.

"No. No… I'm afraid you won't," Vex drawled matter-of-factly. "I made sure to give you both a dose of magicka and stamina poison, so not now, at least. In the future, you're welcome to try, but in the event that you do, I guarantee I will have the Guild's full support. Brynjolf wouldn't take kindly to you bringing a feral creature like her into our midst and endangering his precious recruits. Love, or no, the Guild and its security is always going to be his top priority."

"I will pay you the same amount of gold and more if you let us go," Rella muttered.

The blonde made a rather repulsive snort of laughter, pacing back and forth in front of the Dragonborn. "You see, it isn't _just _about the money, Rella. Aetherius hath no fury like a woman scorned."

"What?"

"You walked into the Guild a complete amateur and left with a senior rank and Brynjolf's favouritism in what… five minutes?" Vex shot her a look of utter disdain. "You know nothing. You're as much an imbecile as Karliah was. And look how that turned out."

"I rightfully earned my rank," Rella bit out. "I worked hard for it."

"Oh, I'm sure you worked very hard for it…" said Vex, "in Brynjolf's bedchamber."

"My relationship with Brynjolf had _nothing_ to do with it! I've proven myself worthy, just like you and everybody else."

Vex stopped her aggravated march and smirked, her gaze focusing on something in the distance, over the Dragonborn's shoulder. "Well, it's no matter, now. They're here."

Rella heard footsteps approaching, her pulse drumming in her ears. She tried to break out of the restraints, but to no avail. The blonde loomed over her, stooping so their eyes were level, the distance between them too great for the Dragonborn to be able to hurl her forehead into her betrayer's nose. "Vex—"

The Imperial's hand shot out and clamped over her mouth. "They only wanted the vampire, and they wanted her alive," she murmured. "I'm doing you a favour. If they take you, too, you can save her." Grinning cruelly, she straightened up, keeping her voice low. "I get my money, and you get to be the hero. It's win-win."

Rella didn't know in what sort of twisted universe Vex thought she was doing her a favour, but she didn't argue. Though the Dovahkiin wanted to yell and scream at her until her throat was raw, she knew it wouldn't do any good.

Two Dawnguard agents came into view, and she thanked the Gods neither of them was Isran. She recognised them as Tilde and Ollrod, though she hadn't particularly spent any time conversing with either of them and getting to know them at a deeper level. They probably despised her for that as much as being – what she was sure they would deem her, now – a vampire sympathiser. She had, however, seen them in battle against the vampires at Castle Volkihar, and knew that they were both reasonably competent with one-handed weaponry.

Vex spoke to them out of the Dragonborn's earshot, and when she saw the exchange of a large pouch of gold, her heart sank. The deal was done. Whatever hopes she'd had of Vex taking the money and then double-crossing the Dawnguard to free her and Serana vanished as the blonde then disappeared into the darkness. She didn't even cast a single, remorseful glance back at the comrade she'd just exploited and deceived.

"How the mighty have fallen," Tilde sniped as they walked towards her. "Isran will be pleased. Two birds with one stone." She turned to Ollrod, "Get the cart."

While he did as he was instructed, Tilde unsheathed the blade hanging at her waist, rounding on the Dragonborn. Rella tried to struggle against the ropes but she was too weak, her attempts futile. "_FUS!"_ she shouted, but succeeded only in causing the Dawnguard agent to stagger backwards slightly.

The pommel of the sword connected with the side of her head and flashes of white light exploded across her vision before she was left in the dark.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I seem to apologise for the length of time it takes me to upload chapters quite often, and this one is no exception. In truth, I was a little disheartened after my last update, and it left me feeling somewhat lacking in motivation to start working on the next until just over a week ago. I don't blame anyone but myself for this – I made a decision, as a writer, to take the story in a particular direction, and I should have expected that direction may not be as agreeable with some readers as it was to me, the author. I'm not one of those FanFiction writers that urge people to review their work (and I don't have any issue with people that do so, it just isn't a personal choice of mine), but I'd be lying if I said that reviews weren't fantastic encouragement to keep putting pen to paper (or fingertips to keyboard, as it were). Any and all feedback is welcome – if you like something, tell me why so that I may continue to write an entertaining and enjoyable story as I hope it has been for many of you so far; and if you don't like something, please don't be afraid to tell me what it is and why. Part of the reason why I love authoring for this site is because not only can I craft stories for characters and fandoms I adore, but it also gives me the opportunity to learn and grow as an aspiring writer.**

**Once again, a big thank you to all who have reviewed, favourited and followed this story. And to those ever-faithful reviewers (you know who you are): I thoroughly appreciate the continued support. **

**I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. I may end up revising it a little. I don't know. I should probably also mention I don't have a Beta, so any mistakes are my own. I do try and proof-read as efficiently as I can, but sometimes errors slip through the net. **

* * *

Words and sounds trickled slowly to her ears as she awoke. Her skull throbbed, the two epicentres at the back and her temple spreading the pain across the entirety of her head. Rough iron trapped her arms behind her and curled around her wrists and ankles, cold and cruel. She opened her eyes, greeted by the sight of a dank stone wall. The floor she was lying on was cool and hard against her cheek, strewn with wisps of hay that perhaps once used to be bedding. She had been given no such comfort.

Although she still wore her tunic and breeches, just by the way the shirt hung off her shoulder she knew her clothes had been removed at some point. She wasn't particularly shy about baring her body, but knowing it hadn't been shown of her own volition made her stomach turn. She hadn't been carrying anything on her person when Vex had taken them, which made the purpose of it all seem somewhat voyeuristic. Thankfully, they had more scruples than to do anything worse than simply strip her down. A group of unruly bandits, on the other hand, might not have been as charitable. The thought made her shiver.

"Are you sure those shackles will hold her? She could use her… _voice_… to—"

She didn't move; didn't dare alert them to the fact that she'd regained consciousness. She regulated her breathing in the unlikely event that one of them might notice a change, and listened.

"They'll hold her, Ollrod; stop fretting. She's not that strong. Isran didn't think she'd had much training."

Their voices were clear, loud. They were outside her cell, or wherever in Fort Dawnguard they were keeping her prisoner. She'd never spent any time thoroughly exploring the grand stone bastion to know exactly what features it held inside its chiselled walls. She had only ever really set foot in the dining hall, the crafting area, Isran's chamber, and…

No. They wouldn't, she thought. She hoped. Horrid images of Serana bound to the rack in the torture room assaulted her mind and she fought to keep them away. She remembered feeling a similar fear when she heard Serana had tracked her down to the Fort after returning to her family at Castle Volkihar. The relief that washed over her when she saw Serana standing in the torture room unscathed had been unfamiliar and strange. This time, she wasn't sure the Dawnguard would grace the vampire with such clemency.

She needed to get free, somehow. She needed to see Serana to safety, whatever the cost.

"But—"

"_If_ she gets out, we can kill the leech before she has chance to say… what is it? Food-Road-Die?"

Rella had to hastily suppress the single bubble of sardonic laughter that threatened to escape from her chest.

"She has other powers. Celann said she could summon a dragon!"

"It won't be much use to her if it can't fit through the doors and halls of the castle."

Tilde was right. The only place she could theoretically summon Durnehviir inside the fortress was in the main entrance hall where there was ample space to fit a beast of such great size both vertically and horizontally. He wouldn't be much use to her, though, if he caused the fortifications to crumble around her. She also risked both herself and Serana getting caught in his fire in such confined quarters.

"Agmaer has seen her turn people to ice!"

She wondered how Isran appreciated that little party trick. The vengeful part of herself hoped he had developed a nice spell of hypothermia as a result of it. She'd made a promise to herself not to kill him, then. But if he touched even a single hair on Serana's head again… she wasn't sure she would be able to keep it.

"So move out of range. She can't project further than a few metres."

"I—"

"Stop acting like a dizzy maiden and go and watch the vampire. It will be at least two more days until Isran and the others arrive here from Falkreath. We need to be vigilant."

Two days. It wasn't long – not long, at all.

As Ollrod's loafing, heavy footsteps faded into the distance, Rella was still aware of Tilde lurking outside her cell. Boots clicked rhythmically against the ground, scraping every so often when she changed the direction of her pace.

"Rella, Rella, Rella…" the agent drawled, believing she was talking to herself. "Such a shame to become a turncoat…"

The Dovahkiin spoke up after a short period of silence, no longer seeing any benefit of pretending to be asleep now Ollrod had left. "I didn't change sides."

The patrolling stopped, and Rella rolled over to face her. She winced slightly as the sensation started to return to the arm she'd been lying on. She was indeed inside a cell. Metal bars lined the aperture, through which Tilde was watching her, self-satisfaction written all over her face.

The fair-haired Nord folded her arms across her chest. "You could have fooled me."

"Let Serana go," said Rella. "This isn't her fault." She hated the position of weakness she was in, wishing she could at least rest upright on her knees. She probably could, if she struggled and writhed about enough, but her pride wouldn't allow it. Not whilst she was under such keen observation, at least.

"So we're expected to believe she tripped and her fangs just happened to embed themselves into your neck?" scoffed Tilde, pausing for a moment. She continued before the Dragonborn could say anything in protest. "We aren't the enemy here, Rella. We're trying to protect you from fiends like her."

"Serana isn't the enemy," growled Rella. "She never has been and never will be. We were exploring a Nord ruin and got outnumbered by a group of Draugr. She took a fatal blow that was meant for me, and because I couldn't stand to see her in so much pain, I forced her to drink from me. If it hadn't been for her, I'd be wandering the plains of Sovngarde right at this moment."

"A well-concocted excuse," said Tilde. "I find it hard to believe. You've spent so much time with her you've probably been bewitched. When you first joined the Dawnguard, you despised vampires! And now here you are trying to protect them."

"I'm not protecting vampires. I'm protecting Serana," corrected Rella. "There is a significant difference."

"She isn't like us," said Tilde. "There is a creature inside her that is feral and dangerous. Who's to say she won't follow in her father's footsteps one day?"

"She and her father are _nothing_ alike," the Dragonborn contested. "Harkon was cruel and merciless. Surely even you can see that Serana bears no such malice. Why else would she help us stop him?"

The Dawnguard agent fidgeted slightly, her left eye twitching dimly in irritation. The Dragonborn knew she had cracked her resolve, if only a little. Tilde's jaw stiffened, brow furrowing. "She probably wanted him out of the way so she could take his place." Even she knew it was a feeble defence by the stroppy tone her voice had taken on.

Rella shook her head. "Can't you see? This is Isran's influence! He's so blinded by his hatred of vampires that he refuses to see what's right in front of him. Serana didn't hurt me. I tempted her – I didn't give her any other choice but to feed from me." She drew in a long, deep breath. "Do what you want with me, but let her go. Please."

"Why are you protecting her? Why would you risk your life for hers?"

_Because I love her,_ Rella thought.

"You _what_?"

The Dragonborn's gaze darted up to meet the Dawnguard agent's wide, bewildered eyes. She realised then, rather disturbingly, that her mental confession had also been a spoken one. The words had escaped from her tongue before she'd had a chance to stop them; before she'd even recognised what exactly it was that she was admitting.

Her heart suddenly began to drum inside her chest. There was no going back, now. The truth, the simplicity of it, had surfaced so easily that it frightened her. Such a declaration could change everything as she knew it, and she still wasn't entirely sure she was ready to accept it. She hadn't yet been completely honest with Serana about her lesser feelings, and to throw _love_ into the mix… that was a level of devotion she wasn't certain the vampire would want to hear.

But most of all, she was afraid that Serana didn't feel the same way.

"I…" she began, trailing off.

"This is… this is far worse than even Isran thought," muttered Tilde. "She's enthralled you!" She grasped hold of the bars, and for a split second, the desperation in her voice almost convinced Rella that she cared beyond her leader's manipulation.

The Dovahkiin shook her head, a small, sad smile touching her lips. "No, she hasn't."

"There isn't any other way to explain this," said Tilde. "Don't you understand? You've become her thrall. She's controlling you."

Rella fought to contain a horrific memory that was rapidly resurfacing itself, occupying her mind with thoughts of Serana to keep her demons at bay. She set her glare back on the Dawnguard agent standing outside her cell. She was too far away to reach with her Thu'um, and by the time she could awkwardly shuffle forwards to get within shouting range, the woman would be wise to her plans and have moved clear. Smart, to put her in a long, expansive cell, she thought. It might have even been built specially, upon learning of her supposed duplicity. Didn't they appreciate the danger they were putting themselves in by holding her captive? "I've seen thralls. I've fought thralls. I am not one of them." She sounded far calmer than she felt, for which she was silently thankful.

"You don't know what you're saying," said Tilde. "Your mind is no longer your own."

Anger erupted inside her, body rigid with tension she was unable to relieve except with her voice. "_You_ don't know what you're saying. _Your_ mind is no longer your own!" Her Thu'um rumbled inside her chest, filling her with strength far greater and far more powerful than any potion or elixir could produce. "Isran may not be a vampire, but he has beguiled you just as easily as one could."

"Poppycock," Tilde spat. "Ollrod and I… we'll free you from her charms." She backed away from the bars, a hand resting on the handle of the axe hanging at her waist. "She'll release you with enough… encouragement."

"If you lay even a finger on her…" Rella snarled. "I will make you wish you hadn't." She scowled at her fellow Nord and former colleague, her hatred of Isran and his foolish vendetta growing greater by the minute. "Don't put me in that position… because I will choose her _every_ time, regardless of my past beliefs."

"You'll remember where your true loyalties lie, soon," said Tilde, turning away from the Dragonborn and disappearing down the passageway. Her shadow remained within view for a few moments more, but soon followed.

"No!" Rella cried, thrashing about in her rage and despair. The shackles binding her tore at her skin and produced red raw bracelets and anklets underneath that were of her own making. "Don't you dare hurt her!"

Silence. The Dragonborn's body heaved with her furious breaths and she roared in frustration, tugging at the chains linking her restraints despite knowing it was absolutely futile. She was stronger than most ordinary women, but not strong enough to break apart metal manacles.

She cursed Vex and her greed and her petty, petty jealousy. She cursed herself for even getting involved with such a harpy.

What little energy she'd had was spent. Rella lay there and could do nothing else but simply wait.

* * *

A scream jolted her awake. The flame from the nearest torch in the passageway was slowly dying, so the cell was mostly dark. She squinted to see if Tilde or Ollrod were prowling outside, seeing nothing and no one save for the austere stone wall. She thought it might have been part of a dream, until she heard it again. It was unmistakeably Serana's, and it served to cause her blood to turn to ice.

The third time it echoed towards her, it pierced her heart and shattered it to pieces. She couldn't even cover her ears and block it out. She was forced to lie there, incapacitated, helpless. The oath she had made with herself to always protect Serana was now broken. The vampire was in pain and suffering and there wasn't a thing she could do to stop it.

What they were doing to her… she couldn't bear to imagine. It terrified her to think that, at one stage, she would have been fully accepting of whatever agony Tilde and Ollrod were inflicting upon Serana. She might have even partaken in it herself, once upon a time. She felt sick.

There was one more afterwards, and then the passageway fell into an eerie quiet. Panic coursed through her veins and tears welled in her eyes as she prayed to whichever of the Nine was listening that Serana be okay.

"Serana!" she yelled. Tears began to spill down her dirtied cheeks, colouring her voice with her anguish. "Serana, I'm so sorry!"

The Dragonborn let her head fall against the cold ground. "I'm sorry…" she whispered.

She hated feeling so utterly powerless, so… _useless. _She'd grown so accustomed to being able to prevail against any difficulty she faced, to conquer any foe that stood in her way, that she had almost developed a certain sense of arrogance about it all. That complacency would get her killed was a thought ever-present, lurking in the very back of her mind, but she hadn't considered that it might get someone else killed. She would never forgive herself if that happened, and she refused to let it. Lying there a sobbing wreck wasn't going to solve anything. It wasn't going to save Serana.

_Pull yourself together,_ the tougher, pragmatic part of her hissed. And so she did just that.

The rivulets mapping her cheeks dried as salty trails, and she forced any residual anger and unhappiness away. She would weep no more.

Rella attempted to roll up onto her knees, losing balance twice and landing heavily on her shoulder. She winced as it rekindled the perforated muscular twinge from the wound she had sustained there not so long ago. On the surface, it was mostly healed, now, but she knew that there would be a minor complaint underneath for the rest of her life. That was one more reason she wouldn't be so lenient with Isran in the future. If he had, in any way, affected her ability to use a bow, she wasn't confident she'd be able to restrain herself from wounding him in return. An eye for an eye; a bow arm for a bow arm.

On the third try, she managed to stay upright.

The cell she was being kept in was wholly unremarkable. In the back left corner was a chamber pot, and to the right of the prison bars sat a small bucket. Upon closer inspection, she found it was filled with water. In the dim light she couldn't quite identify its condition, though it didn't give off any foul stench so it couldn't have been anything else but. Her throat felt dry, so she chanced a mouthful, having to fully immerse her face in it to suck in a reasonable amount. It had a slightly stale taste, but wasn't going to kill her.

Now, she turned her attention on finding a way to get out of her cell. If she were to break apart the pail, there was a possibility of it splintering into fragments small and thin enough for her to use as lockpicks. Whilst the feasibility of that idea working might not have been very high, she needed to at least try.

Taking a few final swigs of the water, Rella positioned the bucket next to the wall and lay on her side, shuffling so that she could rest her bare feet against it. She kicked, smashing it hard against the partition. After multiple shots, it began to lose its durability and eventually fractured. A shard impaled the heel of her right foot and she growled through gritted teeth, curling her legs behind her and yanking it out with her fixed hands. Ignoring the sting, she fumbled about for pieces to use to pick the lock on her irons. Unfortunately, each time she inserted the wood into the keyhole and tried to prise it against the tumblers inside, it snapped. No matter how skilled she was at picking locks, without the right tools, it was hopeless.

The Dragonborn groaned in frustration, sinking back to the floor. Could she get through the iron bars that trapped her there, somehow? Whilst unrelenting force was useful against creatures, humanoids and anthropoids, it wasn't likely to move metal. Fire breath, perhaps.

"_YOL_!" Flames burst from her mouth. They streamed forwards and wrapped around the rails, dissipating within a few seconds. She lay back, poised to strike them with her feet. Without thoroughly thinking her strategy through, she thrust her legs forwards. The hot metal seared into the soles of her feet and she drew them back into her body with a pained yelp.

"Idiot," she muttered to herself, wincing and twisting to survey the damage. It wouldn't leave any lasting harm, except on her pride. She sighed wearily.

Then, she remembered the chamber pot sitting in the corner behind her. Scuffling backwards, she hooked the vessel with her ankles and brought it to the front of the cell. It was, fortuitously, empty, and large enough for her to squeeze both feet inside. For a second time she kicked the heated poles, hitting them again and again and again with her reinforced, improvised boot until the muscles in her thighs began to tingle.

The shafts were slightly dented, but it was nowhere near enough for her to be able to get free.

Her only comfort was that she could breathe fire at Tilde or Ollrod now that she was closer in proximity to the outer passageway. Alas, it wasn't potent enough to kill them, and if she provoked them there was no telling what other horrible things they might do to Serana as punishment.

Two days. She had only two days until Isran arrived. There weren't any doubts in her mind that he would want to be the one to kill Serana. It would be such an achievement for him to have finally eradicated every single member of the Volkihar clan. Or so he might think, at least –Valerica was still residing within the Soul Cairn. The other recruits would revere him; hail him as a hero, when all he would be was a narrow-minded fool.

How quickly they had all forgotten that Serana was the one to save them all by informing them of her father's plans; to aid the Dragonborn, the fledgling Dawnguard recruit, in a task that would have been impossible without her. To them, she had simply been an asset – a tool to be used and discarded as they saw fit. To Rella, she had been so much more.

Now, they thought of her as a monster. But to Rella, she was everything.

* * *

She wasn't sure when exactly it was she fell asleep, but when she awoke, the Dovahkiin was aware of a presence outside her cell. It was far too dark for her to be able to see clearly, but she was just able to discern a female figure. She assumed it was Tilde, until they spoke up.

"Hello, Rella."

That voice. Could it be?

"Vex?" she questioned incredulously, lifting her head and squinting at her.

"The one and only."

It certainly sounded like her, but her face was veiled by shadow. It must have been the dead of night, which would have explained how easily it must have been to slip into the fortress unnoticed. With all but two recruits away, she probably didn't even need to try.

Rella narrowed her eyes at her. "What are you doing here? It wasn't enough to betray me, so now you've come to gloat?"

"I understand why you're angry, but there's no need to be rude."

"Oh, you understand, do you?" Rella bit back. "I think I've got every right to be rude after the way you've treated me. You _sold me out_. Me; a fellow member of the Guild, and you couldn't set aside your trifling jealousy to act with any integrity. The White take you."

"I came to help… but on second thought: maybe I'll just leave you here."

"I don't need your help," Rella snapped.

"From where I'm standing, you look as though you could."

There was a hint of spiteful amusement in the blonde's tone that made the Nord even more enraged. Of course she'd come to gloat – it wasn't often that one could observe the esteemed Dragonborn in such a wretched state.

"I'll get out by myself," said Rella. "And mark my words: one day, you will reap what you have sown."

Vex sighed dramatically. "We'll see about that, Dragonborn." She shifted in the darkness, moving closer to the bars. "Sometimes we must do drastic things in order to survive. Desperate times call for desperate measures, no?"

"Serana wasn't a threat to you. Your "survival" was never in question."

"She wasn't, no. _You_, on the other hand, were. She was simply the catalyst for purging you from the Guild."

"Why? I never wronged you in any way!"

"I told you," Vex replied softly. "You walked into the Guild an amateur recruit one day and a senior member the next," her voice took on a harsher quality, then. "It took me _eight_ years to get that far, and you achieved that in a matter of months! It's absolutely ludicrous."

"Have you ever considered the fact that you perhaps just weren't that good?" Rella sniped, crushing the slight feeling of guilt that crept up on her.

"You don't have a clue," the blonde muttered bitterly. "You? You're the Dragonborn. You have another talent; somewhere you can succeed outside of the Guild. Me? This – thieving – it is _all I have_. And when someone younger, someone prettier, someone more capable than you swoops in and threatens to upset the balance, to replace you, to put you out of work, then you'll understand why I felt like I needed to survive."

Rella absorbed the Imperial's words, letting them sink in for a few moments. She hadn't thought her admission into the Guild would have caused such a problem. She and Vex hadn't always seen eye-to-eye, but neither had they ever severely clashed before. Certainly, they had their squabbles, but the Dragonborn had always believed it to be borne of the twisted rapport between them. The blonde's confession had been so sudden; the Nord had never had any suspicion that everything was not what it seemed.

"You didn't have to go this far," she finally said. "There is _always_ another way. A better way. Regardless, your standing within the Guild hasn't changed simply because I am now also a senior member. There are still the same number as when Mercer was the Guildmaster."

"Perhaps you're right," said Vex. She was about to speak again, but a sound echoed down the passageway, spooking her. She darted forwards and started to fiddle with the lock on the cell door. "And perhaps, one day, you and I will meet again under better circumstances."

"Perhaps."

Rella didn't hear Vex's footsteps as she disappeared down the hallway, but was suddenly overcome by sleepiness. It was a strange sensation, and one that had developed so abruptly. Despite her knowledge that the cell was now open and she had a chance to save Serana, her limbs felt heavy, tired.

Within seconds, she drifted to sleep, unable to remain awake any longer. The last thought she had was if Vex had done something to her, somehow. After all that had happened, she wouldn't put it past her.

* * *

The cell and passageway were still dark when she awoke again, though she wasn't swathed in pitch blackness. Strands of dawn light coming from a nearby aperture granted her the ability to see, albeit only just. Faint scratching was all she could hear at that moment, what she assumed was probably a small rodent. She hoped the night had been kind to Serana, her heart aching at the thought of her lying there in that room all alone and in pain.

She immediately remembered the encounter she'd had with Vex during the early hours, though couldn't be entirely certain if it had been real, or a dream. There was only one way to find out, and that was to try opening the cell door. If it had been real, the door should be open.

Rella managed to lumber to her feet, ignoring the slight prickle from where she'd previously burnt them, and hobbled over. She pulled the door gently, and when it didn't budge, yanked it towards her. It rattled, but did nothing. A push and a shove didn't work, either.

It was still locked.

Rella groaned, falling down to her knees in despair. What dismayed her even more was the fact that the conversation she'd shared with the Imperial thief obviously hadn't actually happened. It meant that the blonde's reason for double-crossing her had stemmed from her own subconscious; a rationalisation for her behaviour that perhaps was meant to make the betrayal easier to bear.

She pushed it to the back of her mind. There wasn't any point in her concentrating on something that was beyond her power. She needed to get out of that damned cell.

Stuffing her feet inside the chamber pot again, she unleashed a stream of fire into the bars. She kicked and kicked at the same spot again and again, bringing to each every ounce of strength she could muster.

There would be intervals where she would blast them with flames again, hoping to wear down their resistance. After some time – quite how long, she wasn't sure – she had made quite a significant gap. Whilst she could just about squeeze an arm and a shoulder out, it was nowhere near large enough to fit the rest of her torso and hips through.

Pulling back, the Dragonborn decided it was going to take far too long for her to be able prise open the bars wide enough to cater for her whole body. It was time she could not afford; not when Isran's arrival was looming. Neither was there anything to say he and his outfit wouldn't get there earlier than expected. She couldn't let that happen.

So, left without any other option, Rella made a decision.

* * *

The Dovahkiin had no concept of time whilst she was being held in that cell, but at what seemed like an hour or two later, languid footsteps drifted down the passage. Tilde appeared, scanning the inside of the small chamber for her prisoner with narrowed eyes.

"Come to your senses, Dragonborn?" the Dawnguard agent asked, half-facetiously. Fortunately, she hadn't seemed to notice the place towards the bottom of the gate where the poles were bent outwards, nor did she notice the broken bucket. She seemed far too absorbed in rejoicing over the fact that the Dawnguard had succeeded in catching both the elusive vampire and the defending Dragonborn.

Rella was lying towards the back of the cell next to the wall, her body still. She took her time to respond, but did so in a slow and steady voice. "You were right," she said. "She was… manipulating me."

Tilde's eyebrows shot up in surprise, though she was regarding the Dragonborn carefully, sceptically. "It… worked?"

Rella nodded curtly. "I feel… free. My mind is clear again. I don't have her whispering to me in the back of my head, trying to control me. Not anymore. No more, thanks to you and Ollrod."

"Good. This is very good," said Tilde, nodding her head lightly. "Isran will be pleased to hear this. I don't think he expected her command over you to cease so easily."

Truthfully, she hadn't thought it would be so easy. "Always thinking the worst, isn't he?" Rella feigned a jokey disposition. Then, more seriously, asked, "What will happen to the _leech_, now?"

The Dawnguard agent seemed to contemplate this for a moment, rubbing the centre of her forehead with the heel of her hand. "I expect he will terminate her, as planned," she replied. "We don't have any use for her, and one less bloodsucking fiend in the world surely won't be a bad thing."

"No," Rella agreed softly. "But… before you do…"

Tilde watched her intently through the bars, waiting for her to continue.

Rella swallowed, her mouth dry. She found her next words difficult to say, but if she wanted even a hope of saving Serana, say them she must. "I want her to suffer what she's done to me." It didn't quite come out as stern as she'd have liked, and she hoped it was enough to convince the Dawnguard agent.

Tilde was quiet for a few moments, nibbling on her lower lip.

"Please," urged Rella. "Take me to her. _Let me do it_." She could hear the desperate conviction clearly in her own voice, and it scared her slightly.

It took a short time to sink in, but eventually, Tilde did, too, and she nodded, unhooking the key ring from her belt. The Dragonborn had to suppress the look of delight that threatened to brighten her eyes and curve her lips as she heard the lock click open, biting down hard on the inside of her cheek.

Her plan was working. She could hardly believe it. As Tilde unlocked the manacles around her wrists and ankles, she felt her heart beat quicken inside her chest. The words of the unrelenting force shout lingered on her tongue; fluttered inside her chest.

Not now. She needed to be patient. She needed to get Tilde and Ollrod together. And then, she would strike.

"Follow me," said Tilde.

Rella nodded, stepping out into the passageway, rubbing the burn marks where the shackles used to be.

_I'm coming for you, Serana, _she thought. _We're going to make it out of here._


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: A huge thank you to everyone who took the time to review the previous chapter. You're all wonderful, and I am eternally grateful for all the support - as much as I love writing this story, I'm not sure I could do it without you! To those of you still reading and following this: thanks!**

**On another note: in the near future, I am going to be changing the rating of this story from T, to M. I realise I didn't mention this before, so I apologise. However, I will put a warning at the beginning of future chapters that contain any mature content. If anyone has any issues with this, please don't hesitate to let me know.**

* * *

Tilde led the Dragonborn along the passageway of cells – an area of the stronghold she'd neither seen nor thought existed. Quite who – or what – they hoped to keep contained there, Rella didn't know. She had always believed the Dawnguard's prerogative was to kill vampires, not imprison them. But then, what use would they have for the torture chamber? It wasn't as though they would have foreseen the predicament she and Serana now found themselves in.

As they passed the final cell that sat at the foot of an ascending stone staircase, the Dovahkiin saw a body. Tilde's pace wasn't particularly hurried, so Rella had time to turn her head and catch a brief glimpse of the person slumped against the wall. The face was so disfigured she couldn't tell whether it was a man or a woman; a vicious burn twisted the visage, the skin charred and mottled from where it had been scalded so severely. When her eyes drifted down to observe the rest of the mangled form, she saw the hands and feet had been amputated.

Had she not grown desensitised to gore and carnage from her time spent battling dragons and bandits and all manner of fiendish beasts, she might have been feeling extremely faint at that moment. She didn't dare question the Dawnguard agent climbing the steps in front of her, but knew that even vampires did not deserve such brutality inflicted upon them. There was something far more sinister going on within the Dawnguard than she'd realised. Whether all the current members knew about it, or not, she couldn't believe that they would _all_ willingly accept and participate in such cruel conduct. She knew, deep down, that despite how much she had despised vampires prior to Serana, she could never have made them suffer in such a way. Killed them, certainly – and she had killed her fair share; there was no denying that – but killing was quick, and so was the pain. Mere seconds, and it was over.

"You're quiet, Dragonborn," Tilde remarked nonchalantly, drawing Rella away from her ruminations and back into the present. "Something on your mind?"

"I… just… I can't believe how easily I fell under her spell," Rella stumbled, both verbally and physically as her foot landed on an uneven stair. She didn't fall, steadying herself by grasping into the metal fixture of a handily placed sconce. "I have made such a fool of myself."

"No use beating yourself up over it. What happened, happened. Some of us could see it coming, given the amount of time you were spending together. It was only a matter of time."

"If you saw it coming… why didn't you do something sooner?" Rella knew the answer to that question before she'd even asked it. It was the perfect excuse for Isran to eliminate Serana. And in that time, he had been able to make an example of her; to subtly condition the others into following his beliefs. _Look_, he would have said to them, _look at how Rella is falling under the control of that vampire. Do you see what they do? They enthral and they kill and every single one of them needs to be removed from this world. _

The man was exceptionally calculating; more so than she had ever given him credit for. She hadn't fallen under Serana's influence. She had simply… fallen in love with her. It was through no fault of Serana's own, except that she was beautiful and wonderful and every positive word Rella could think to use to describe her.

"What could we have done?" Tilde asked in return. "You were halfway across Skyrim doing whatever it is you do as the Dragonborn. It would have been a waste of time and resources to send someone to babysit you all hours of the day."

The Dovahkiin wasn't sure what else to say in response to that, so grunted half-heartedly in agreement.

At the top of the staircase was a door, heavy and wooden, that the Dawnguard agent unlocked with a key from the ring attached to her belt. It opened out behind a towering stack of crates, blocking any view of the door from the other side. Clever, Rella thought. She hadn't conducted any thorough search of the castle, and if she had, she probably wouldn't have been inclined to look at what might be hiding behind the boxes.

"I hope Isran can find it within himself to forgive me," she commented offhandedly as they walked through the gap next to the western wall. They continued onwards, passing through the short walkway that opened out into the dining hall. What had appeared to be a simple storage area was actually a concealed entrance to a dungeon. "It was a mistake for me to even consider taking her as a companion. I should have been wise to her intentions."

"Your problem is that you're too trusting," said Tilde. "Certainly, the leech came across as very personable and helpful; so much so that we all began to accept her, at one stage. But never Isran. He was too clever for her. He could see right through that good-natured façade of hers."

"And that is why he is our leader," Rella droned.

"Precisely."

Crossing through the foyer, where the deep orange glow of the dusk's fading sun filtered through the aperture above, they began to ascend the spiralling staircase up to the second floor. As she trailed behind Tilde, she envisaged herself grabbing hold of the back of the Dawnguard agent's cuirass and slinging her over the banister. While it wouldn't kill her, it would definitely incapacitate her – either from the fall or getting impaled on the shallow spikes lining the iron railing. But, it would also cause a lot of noise and alert Ollrod, which was why she couldn't do it, no matter how much she wanted to.

When they reached the top, Ollrod was leaning against the wall, using the tip of a small blade to scrape out the dirt from underneath his fingernails. Upon seeing Rella following Tilde, unchained and unaggressive, he frowned, sheathing the dagger and striding around towards them. "What's she doing here? Why isn't she manacled anymore?"

"Hello to you, too, Ollrod," drawled Rella.

"Rella is no longer under the vampire's influence," Tilde explained to him. "She's one of us, again."

Ollrod's narrowed eyes settled on the Dragonborn. She met him with a steely gaze, her expression blank. "How do you know?"

"I know I want her to suffer for what she's done to me," muttered Rella.

"See?" said Tilde, rather cheerfully. "Our remedy worked. Rella's mind is her own again, and the leech is still alive for Isran to have the pleasure to dispose of. We're all winners."

Ollrod continued to regard Rella carefully for a few moments. "How do we know she's not merely pretending?"

The Dovahkiin managed to prevent the brief prickle of fear that ran down her spine from showing on her face. She gulped, jerking her chin up in defiance. "I can assure you I'm not pretending," she said calmly. "I'm simply not that good an actress. If I was, I'd be at the Bard's College, not here. Don't you agree?" When he didn't appear entirely convinced, she added, "Take me to her, and I'll prove I'm no longer her thrall. I'll show her she can't enchant me and get away with it." She laughed, then. So callously, in fact, that she surprised even herself.

Tilde clapped her hard on the back. "That's the real Rella, alright."

"It would seem so." Ollrod still looked upon her with some degree of doubt, but if it was enough for Tilde, then it would be enough for him.

"Come on," said Tilde, giving her a small shove towards the chamber on the right. "Let's show her she's beaten."

Rage burnt ferociously in the pit of Rella's stomach and the blood boiled fiercely inside her veins when she laid eyes upon Serana inside the torture chamber. Her heart lurched, the pain so severe that she very nearly reached up to clutch at her chest.

The vampire was lying there, barely-clothed; her modesty protected by only a small piece of cloth tied around her middle and the countless leather belts that strapped her to the rack. A myriad of lacerations covered her body, her ashen skin charred and slick with both blood and melted silver. She barely even registered their presence, her ochre eyes vacant and unresponsive. Had her chest not been rising and falling with ragged and laboured breaths, the Dragonborn would have thought her truly dead.

But what hurt Rella almost as much as seeing Serana like that, was to know that she was just as responsible for it as the Dawnguard agents standing next to her. It was enough to shatter her mask, to make her fall to her knees and break down and cry, but the anger kept her legs walking forwards. She would get Serana out of there, or die trying. And if she succeeded, she would beg for forgiveness she would never deserve.

She felt Tilde press something into her palm: a dagger. She glanced down. It was made of silver. Probably the same one they'd used before. Its handle scorched her hand with reminiscence of Serana's suffering. "Isran will be proud of you, Dragonborn. It takes incredible will to overcome that kind of enthralment," the older woman said. In her periphery, Rella saw her step back to settle at Ollrod's side.

The Dovahkiin took tentative steps forwards, arcing around to the table adorned with various implements of torture, and raised the knife. She drew in a long, deep breath, checking the Dawnguard agent's position in relation to her own in her peripheral vision one final time.

Her Thu'um was already rumbling inside her chest as she spun around to face them, shouting, "_FUS RO DAH!"_

A burst of invisible energy erupted from inside her, and the two agents scarcely realised what was happening until it was too late. They were launched backwards, slammed against the wall, their bodies falling to the cobbled ground in crumpled heaps. Rella held her breath as she watched their still forms for any sign of movement, her fingers wrapped tightly around the knife even though she hoped she wouldn't have to use it against them. They were both, fortunately, unconscious.

"Serana!" She threw the blade to the ground and dashed to the vampire's side. The undead Nord's eyes flickered to look at the Dragonborn. "I'm here," she said, reaching out to touch her cheek. A vicious welt spread across the left side of her face, and there was a large gash just above her eyebrow. She was in a bad way, and they didn't have much time left. The younger Nord worked quickly to unfasten the belts, starting at her shackled feet and ending at her cuffed hands. "Serana," she urged, moving to take hold of her hand. "We need to leave."

As Rella's fingertips grazed hers, the vampire swiped at her, leaping off the contraption and retreating hastily into the back corner of the room, near the balcony. She growled, the sound savage, her eyes scarlet and untamed.

"It's me, Serana. Look at me," Rella begged anxiously. "I'm not going to hurt you. I promise." She caught sight of her robes, piled haphazardly on the single chair facing the contraption and went to retrieve them.

Serana emitted a pained moan, reaching up to grasp her head with her hands. She backed up against the wall, sinking to the floor, knees brought to her chest. She screamed.

Rella moved slowly towards her until she was standing only a tiny distance away. She knelt down. "Serana…" She rested a hand on her arm, and this time, the vampire didn't jerk away. "I'm going to help you. I'm going to get us out of here."

Serana lifted her head and her eyes were so full of despair that it was all Rella could do not to pull her into her arms. "Rella… you… you came for me."

The Dragonborn nodded. "Of course I did. I'd never leave you." As she said those words, the older Nord's eyes faded from crimson to gold. She draped Serana's robes around her shoulders, helping ease her arms into the sleeves and fasten the belt around her waist. She held out her hands, pulling the vampire to her feet. "Everything's going to be okay."

Serana wrapped her arms around her, whimpering faintly, and Rella returned the embrace tightly. It lasted no more than a few seconds before she felt something sharp graze her collar. She wasn't prepared for the moment Serana shoved her away with such force that she was launched backwards and sent hurtling through the air. She went crashing into the table, the chair, the barrels and the crates in the crook of the adjoining room, the air rushing out of her lungs as she landed heavily on her back. Some of the wood splintered beneath her, but didn't do anything to cushion her fall.

The undead Nord dashed over to her, but kept a noticeable gap between them. "I'm sorry," she said as Rella staggered to her feet, gasping for breath and coughing and spluttering. "I—"

"I know," the Dragonborn interrupted, her tone harsher than intended as she rubbed the shoulder that took the brunt of the impact. She brushed off the chips of wood that stuck to her clothes, some of which had left her with a few shallow cuts and grazes on her arms and legs. "It's okay. I understand." She walked briskly out onto the balcony and into the master bedroom, where she searched for a weapon and a more substantial set of clothing. The mannequin next to the bed was dressed in a set of Dawnguard armour which she stripped off and donned herself. It was slightly too big – fitted for a male body – and the boots threatened to slip off her feet with every step she took, but there wasn't time to scour the whole castle for a suit that would fit her. After a quick scan of the room, Rella discovered a crossbow without bolts, a war axe, and a warhammer were her weapons of choice. The crossbow was entirely useless without bolts and the warhammer was far too heavy for her to carry, let alone try to swing around, and so that left her with the war axe. It had an enchantment that adversely affected vampires, as with all Dawnguard weapons, so she hoped just carrying it with her wouldn't hurt Serana in any way.

She strode out of the chamber, axe tucked into her belt, the vampire following closely behind. "Come on," she said softly. "Let's get out of here." Her apology could wait. Her plea for forgiveness could wait. They were running out of time.

Their only proper means of escape was, unfortunately, straight out of the main gates. Rella had never been into Dead Drop Falls so didn't know if there was any way out through there, and climbing down the side of the cliff from the roof of the fort wasn't exactly an appealing option, either.

Rain fell from the dark sky hanging over Dayspring Canyon, soaking them through within seconds of emerging from the castle. Forks of lightning darted across the black, and the white flashes illuminated the entire area for a split-second. Thunder rolled across the valley and shook the ground, a fearsome, invisible beast.

Rella took them down to the left and across the timber platform where Ollrod most often patrolled, and descended the small cluster of rocks, effectively avoiding the refugees' camp along the central road. There was a gap between the cliff face and the lumber barriers sizable enough for them both to squeeze through and they continued on, hugging the side of the mountain. They moved swiftly past the second of the two lower towers that extended out from the main body of the fortress, still keeping close to the side of the cliff. Serana tripped over the slim trunk of a fallen tree, but when the Dragonborn tried to help her she was dismissed with a curt wave and a muttered: "I'm fine."

Rella wasn't convinced, but didn't say a word. She started moving again and had taken no more than three steps when Serana grabbed hold of her arms and pulled her to the side, into the cover of a small copse of fronded trees. She turned to ask what was going on, but the vampire held a finger to her lips. _Wait,_ she mouthed, _I heard something._

Rella nodded, pushing away the damp hair that was plastered to her face. She shivered, the armour offering no kind of warmth when it was full of water inside. She looked at Serana, her eyes dim, her brow furrowed in concentration, and ached to reach out and touch her, to hold her, even though she knew it wasn't the most appropriate of times. She was on the brink of doing so - arm outstretched - when the undead Nord nudged her sharply in the ribs and pointed to the crest of the slope that led to the entrance of the gorge.

Isran walked with purpose along the trail, flanked by his troupe of recruits. Lightning glinted above, blinding and bright, and Serana seized Rella's arm, yanking her down to the ground in case they could be seen.

They waited there, under the shelter of the trees, for the group to pass. They didn't dare move, lest they make even the slightest sound. When Isran and the others disappeared behind the cliffs, Serana let go of Rella's hand. The vampire took the lead, this time, heading towards the waterfalls. She was quick and effortless, as though she wasn't severely injured at all, but her movements lacked their usual grace and fluidity and it gave her away. They passed by the fishing spot, following the path as it curved around to where the soaring crags closed in, rendering the entrance of the canyon narrow and confined.

Just a few more steps and they would be within.

"Stay right where you are."

Ahead of her, Serana froze. Rella immediately moved in front of her, shielding her from any potential threat. When she turned, Agmaer was standing a short distance away, crossbow loaded and aimed at her chest. She remained silent as another clap of thunder boomed throughout the valley, reverberating through flesh and bone.

"Isran sent me to patrol the canyon entrance," he told her, as if they were sharing light conversation over a tankard of ale. "I don't think he expected you'd be here."

Rella remembered the first time she'd met him, at that very spot, in fact – or at least very close to it. Upon seeing him, he hadn't instantly struck her as vampire-hunting material – quite the opposite. In his set of tattered farmer's clothes and carrying that rusty old axe at his side, he hadn't given her the impression that he would be at all capable of killing a chicken, let alone a vampire. He'd even confessed to his own nervousness, stuttering like a fool upon Isran's introduction and fumbling with his newly-acquired crossbow.

Now, he stood before them, confident and strong. His face, once unblemished, warm, and boyish, had grown weathered and hard, and a thick scar ran from underneath his left eye, across the bridge of his nose. He held his weapon steadily, surely. This time, he wouldn't miss his mark.

Of his transformation, Rella couldn't help but feel some measure of pride.

"Don't do this, Rella," he implored. "Don't protect her."

"I will protect her with my life," Rella responded sombrely. "So you have two choices: you can kill me… or you can let us go." Her voice had begun to tremble, but she wasn't sure if it was fear, anger, or simply the cold. Serana's hand found hers, and cool fingers intertwined with her own. It gave her the assurance she needed.

"You know I can't do that," said Agmaer.

"Then you can walk away. Pretend you never saw us."

"It's not that simple."

"Isn't it?"

"This… it's madness, Rella," he said. "Just give yourselves up. If you do… Isran will probably be more lenient—"

Rella laughed scathingly. "You have no idea what you're saying. If we give ourselves up, he'll _kill_ Serana! I am doing – and will continue to do – everything in my power to stop that from happening."

"But she—"

"Serana hasn't done anything wrong," Rella explained calmly. "I'm not bewitched; she isn't controlling me, or my actions, in any way. The fact of the matter is…" She took in a deep breath, scraping her wet hair away from her face again. "Isran is so blinded by his hatred for vampires that he's forgotten just who he should be indebted to. If it hadn't been for Serana, Lord Harkon and his coven could be running around Skyrim attacking innocent people and enthralling anyone they please.

"This? It's all a misunderstanding. I owe Serana my _life_. I _let_ her feed from me – a choice I made _by myself_. She didn't attack me, and she didn't try to kill me. _Isran won't listen to reason._ He hasn't even _tried_ to understand the situation. He's just out for blood; vampire blood, and anyone else who can see they're just people like us." She paused. "Do you have any idea what's really going on inside Fort Dawnguard? Do you know about the dungeon? Do you know about the mutilated vampire they have rotting down there?" She swallowed, licking the raindrops from her lips. "It was recent; probably within the last few weeks. There is something sinister going on inside those walls, Agmaer, and I sincerely hope you aren't a part of it."

Agmaer's perplexed expression was the answer she'd been hoping for. That was a reaction she knew couldn't be faked. "… What? A dungeon…?"

Rella nodded soberly, suppressing a shiver. Her limbs felt heavy with the cold. "I think Isran has formed some sort of… sadistic inner circle that—that tortures and maims vampires. Tilde and Ollrod are definitely involved. I don't know who else." She squeezed Serana's hand, glad for her support. Sighing wearily, the Dragonborn continued, "When I first joined the Dawnguard, the level of hatred I had for vampires was probably on a par with Isran's. But even then, I would _never_ have inflicted that kind of suffering on any of them. There's a difference between seeking justice and seeking cold, cruel vengeance. The Dawnguard shouldn't be about getting revenge, it should be about protecting people from a threat. I despised vampires, but I became a member of this company so I could prevent what happened to me from happening to anyone else."

Agmaer was silent for moments that stretched out into what felt like hours. Rella's words hung heavily in the air between them, and he stared at her – through her – while he came to terms with what exactly it was she was saying. She knew it would be hard to believe, because in their eyes, their leader could do no wrong.

She quickly glanced over his shoulder. Isran would be inside the castle, by now. They would find Tilde and Ollrod sprawled on the ground, and then they would know. They would all come, charge down the hill, torches aflame and weapons at the ready. And then the nightmare would begin again. And this time, there would be no way out of it.

Rella clasped Serana's hand tightly. If it came to that, she would tell her to run. She would block their way, axe drawn, Thu'um in her throat.

"Go."

He lowered his crossbow.

Serana tugged on the Dragonborn's hand, but she didn't move. "Agmaer—"

"Go," he repeated firmly. "I'll try and stall them, but you don't have much time."

Rella took a step backwards. She wouldn't turn her back on him. Not yet. "Don't let the Dawnguard lose its way," she said. "Don't let Isran corrupt you."

"I won't," said Agmaer. "I'll find out what's going on."

"Good luck."

His nod was curt, definitive. "And the same to you, Dragonborn."

* * *

When they emerged from the pass, the storm raged on, unrelenting. Harsh winds they had previously been sheltered from lashed mercilessly around them, whipping icy shards of rain against their skin. Rella took them up the hill lying ahead of them, stealthily – or as stealthy as she could be whilst wearing heavy armour – past a cave guarded by two bandits, and a disintegrated house still glowing with embers left of what she assumed had been a dragon attack. Scenes like that reminded her how crucial her quest as the Dragonborn was. The people of Skyrim were in danger for as long as she neglected to find a way to stop Alduin.

The surface of the small ponds a short way ahead rippled in the moonlight, flecked with ribbons of silver. Rella knelt, scooping water into her hands. Serana stood mutely, wet through, arms wrapped helplessly around herself. She hadn't spoken a single word since they came out of Dayspring Canyon. The Dragonborn could hardly blame her. What was there to say?

They carried on not long afterwards, crossing what appeared to be a burial mound, or a Nord ruin that had fallen in on itself. A dragon's roar rang out somewhere beyond the mountains, shrill and distinct from the resounding thunder. A lair, perhaps. They didn't linger there to find out.

In the distance, Rella could see the silhouettes of the Shadow Stones. The rain had stopped, now.

"This is it," she said.

"A bunch of rocks in the ground?" Serana questioned, though her voice was lacking its usual wry humour. Her breaths had grown more hasty and gulping, and she was moving more sluggishly than before. Rella could see the strain in her eyes. She was trying not to let it show.

Then, a growl. At first, the Dovahkiin thought it came from Serana, but when three pairs of glimmering orbs appeared from amongst the stone monuments and black, four-legged figures came into view, she instantly knew it hadn't.

"Get back!" she barked at the vampire, wrenching the war axe from her belt.

A streak of lightning lit up the land as the wolves separated around them. One in front, two at the sides. Rella heard the crackle of magic as Serana readied a spell behind her.

"_YOL!_"

Flames streamed forwards, setting its hackles alight. It squealed in shock and pain, writhing frenziedly on the grass. Serana cast a flurry of ice spikes at the second, whilst the third lunged for the Dragonborn. She couldn't swing the axe quickly enough to repel it and its claws sunk into her armour, driving her to the ground with its weight. It snapped at her face, spraying slobber, and she wrestled to keep its jaws away from her. She had the handle of the axe pressed into its throat but didn't have the strength to throw it off, and the breastplate and cuisses were too cumbersome, preventing her from being able to lift her legs properly and kick it away.

She wasn't aware of Serana behind her until a rock collided with the side of the wolf's head, knocking it aside. The Dragonborn rolled away, as the vampire finished it off with a spear of ice through its neck.

As Rella scrambled to her feet, Serana dropped to her knees.

"Are you—?" Rella began to ask as she hurried to her side.

"I'm fine," Serana growled, pushing the younger Nord away when she touched her shoulder. "I'll be fine."

"Let me help you."

"I don't need your help," she hissed, and made a point of trying to stand up unaided. Had it not been for the Dragonborn wrapping an arm around her waist and holding her up, she would have collapsed again.

"It's not much further," Rella told her. The vampire didn't say anything, her jaw set indignantly.

The standing stones sat atop a small precipice, where below there was a large ebony obelisk, upon which was the symbol of the Nightingales and their patron, Nocturnal. The Dragonborn helped Serana down, being careful not to aggravate any of the injuries she'd sustained at Fort Dawnguard too severely. She pushed open the wooden door inside the cleft of the rock face, ushering Serana inside.

"So this is Nightingale Hall…" said Serana, allowing Rella to support her along the narrow, overgrown entryway.

"It isn't exactly the homeliest of places, but it will do for a night."

The Dragonborn led her to one of the adjoining rooms along the main hallway that contained two beds, and a rather ragged bedroll. She lowered Serana down onto one of the beds, and perched on the edge of the other one, setting about removing her oversized and waterlogged armour.

A few minutes later, she was down to her tunic and leggings. She shivered involuntarily, hugging what little warmth she had to herself. "You need to heal," she said to Serana, moving to kneel beside her.

When the vampire reached up to brush away damp, dark locks from her face, the Dragonborn noticed her hand was trembling. Her eyes were dim, like the weak embers of a dying fire, staring listlessly up at the mossy ceiling of the chamber. "I can manage."

"I don't think you can."

"I know my own body, and I know I can manage," Serana said, her tone harsher than she perhaps meant it to be from the helpless sigh that came afterwards. She softened, though still refrained from looking at the Dovahkiin, and added, "Just… leave it. I need to rest, that's all. Go and get dry before you catch a chill."

Rella didn't have the heart to argue with her. "If you need anything—"

"I'll let you know," Serana finished. Her smile was faint when she turned her head, meeting Rella's gaze for a single second. Then, she returned it to the flagstone above.

The Dragonborn left the room without another word.

* * *

After five previously failed attempts, Rella tried once more to activate the armour stone. She placed her hands on it; desperate to feel the thrum of magic energy beneath her fingertips as she had done with Karliah and Brynjolf the first time. When nothing happened, she cursed under her breath, slamming her fist against it in frustration. Vex had probably taken the only set of Nightingale armour she'd be able to get, and sold it. Or worse yet: burnt it. That thought almost made her cry; it was such an exquisite suit.

She'd spent the past hour searching the ramshackle chests and cabinets in the Hall for anything that might be of use to her, finding only a few potions, a pair of iron gauntlets and a steel dagger. It wasn't a brilliant haul, but it was certainly better than nothing. Whilst she might not wear the gauntlets, the potions and dagger would come in handy, at least. She just wished she could get hold of a bow, somehow.

When she returned to the bedchamber, Serana was on her feet, but doubled over in what Rella could only imagine was pain. Her brow was slick with sweat, and she was shivering uncontrollably. She didn't protest when the Dragonborn coaxed her into lying down again.

"You need to feed, Serana," Rella said. "Sooner, rather than later."

The vampire nodded reluctantly in agreement and she looked to be on the verge of tears. "I was going to hunt…"

"I'll go," said Rella. "You need to rest."

"You can't… you don't have a bow."

"It doesn't matter."

"But you can't go out alone…" Serana murmured.

"And you can?"

"I…" she began, her expression hopeless. "I'm harder to kill…"

"Not when you're like this, you aren't," said Rella with a small, sad smile. She drew in a long, weary breath, propping her elbows on the edge of the bed and resting her head in her hands. "I don't know what else to do…" She ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it off her face as she set her gaze on Serana. "You know there's another way, but—"

"I can't," Serana whimpered. "I just can't."

"Yes, you can."

"I—"

"I won't force you into anything," said Rella, lacing their fingers together. "But I won't just sit here and watch you suffer. I can't. So you can either let me go out and hunt for you, or you can take what you need from me. The choice is yours."

Serana didn't say anything for a long time. The only thing that gave the Dragonborn any measure of hope was the fact that she didn't take her hand away.

Rella watched her silently, patiently. Whatever she decided, the Dovahkiin would gladly do. She would travel to the fiery planes of Oblivion without hesitation if the vampire asked her to. When it came to Serana, she hadn't an inch of willpower. She was Rella's weakness. She was also the one that had the power to hurt her the most.

"I'll do it," she finally said. "I'll feed from you."

"Are you sure?" asked Rella.

The undead Nord turned her head, meeting Rella's searching gaze. "No," she admitted. "I… don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," Rella assured her. "I promise. If I need you to stop, you will." She smiled thoughtfully. "You're more in control than you think."

Serana nodded slowly, the trepidation shining in her eyes. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, wincing in pain, as Rella settled next to her. The Dragonborn tugged down the collar of her tunic, inhaling sharply as Serana bit into her neck. The pain lasted only seconds.

As Serana fed, the desire Rella felt was almost palpable. One hand rested on the small of the vampire's back, and the other on her thigh. Serana's hands were gripping her shoulders; not so much that it hurt, but not wholly gently, either. They were anchoring her there; to keep her from running away.

But Rella wouldn't have run away. She relished this closeness, to be able to touch Serana without fear of making her uncomfortable, hungering for her blood. Whilst her hands wanted to wander, to explore every camber of the vampire's body, she would never dream of doing so without knowing how Serana truly felt towards her. Rella wasn't sure, and had never been sure. Was the vampire's discomfort solely a result of her craving for the Dragonborn's blood, or was there more to it than that? The vampire sitting beside her was an opaque pane of glass; impossible to read, impossible to understand.

Rella became aware of Serana lifting her head to look at her, eyes burning. The contusion on her cheek and the wound on her forehead had both vanished. The Dragonborn was about to ask if anything was wrong, when the vampire surged forwards and captured her lips in a kiss. She tasted blood – her own – but didn't spare it a thought. Right now, all she could think of, could concentrate on, was the feeling of Serana's cool mouth on her own.

The vampire's hands moved down her back, began to glide up her thighs, and then slowly edged beneath the bottom of her tunic.

"Wait…" Rella murmured, grabbing hold of Serana's hands and pulling back slightly. "What are you doing?"

Amusement flickered across the older Nord's face as she reached up to cup Rella's face, "I'm showing you how I feel about you…" she leant forward and kissed the Dragonborn again.

Rella pushed her away a second time, more forcefully, now. She shook her head miserably. "No," she spoke softly, sorrowfully. "Not like this…"

"Isn't this what you want?" Her irises glinted red for an instant, and that was all the Dovahkiin needed to know she wasn't thinking clearly. Drinking her blood had altered her mood, her state of mind. She wasn't entirely herself.

"It is," Rella confessed. "But it isn't what you want." She stood up, turning her back on Serana, her heart beating quickly inside her chest. She'd yearned for this moment for so long, but under different circumstances. This wasn't how she wanted it to happen. "You only feel like this because you've been feeding from me. You've been affected by my emotions. I don't want to take advantage of that." She needed to be certain Serana felt the same way.

Slender fingers wrapped around her wrist, spinning her around. The older Nord was no longer having difficulty breathing, didn't move with her previous clumsiness. "This _is_ what I want." She pushed Rella backwards against the wall, pinning her there with her hips. She leant in, but the Dragonborn gripped her upper arms firmly to stop her, held her there, in warning. She knew she could not compete with a vampire's strength, and yet the gesture was proof she was not to be trifled with.

"Don't," Rella's voice was low, dangerous.

Serana glared at her, but took a step back.

"I need to know it's real," was all the Dragonborn said as she left the room, blinking away the tears from her eyes.


End file.
